


In Time

by whatyoufish4



Series: I Assure You, Brother [5]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Also hopefully a little bit of creepiness, Gen, Planetary Shenanigans, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Siblings, They are on a deadline, Time Shenanigans, space adventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-07-12 08:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 77,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatyoufish4/pseuds/whatyoufish4
Summary: “There’s something wrong with your brother,” said the Valkyrie.Thor felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve only just noticed?”





	1. Pit Stop

_“I used to think Time was a thief. But you give before you take. Time is a gift. Every minute. Every second.” - Linda Woolverton_

* * * * *

“There’s something wrong with your brother,” said the Valkyrie.

Thor felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve only just noticed?”

They were sitting in the mess hall of the _Statesman,_ the tables around them primarily deserted. Once Korg and Miek had gotten the kitchens in order, Loki had organized a schedule throughout the day to keep mealtimes scattered and the passengers from having to crawl over each other to eat. This meant that the mess hall was almost constantly occupied – except for the graveyard shift, when all but the skeleton crew on duty typically found themselves asleep. It made it an ideal time for the newly installed king of Asgard to find a quiet moment to grab a drink with a friend. 

Of course, when the Valkyrie had asked him to join her in the mess hall after their late-night meeting had finally adjourned, Thor had assumed she’d had no particular reason to want to talk to him. They were on their second round – well, it was Thor’s second round; the Valkyrie had a tendency to line up multiple drinks at once, which made keeping track somewhat tricky – and the conversation up to this point had been as innocuous as it was inconsequential. Which, Thor had to admit, had been overwhelmingly pleasant. It was nice – glorious, in fact – to be talking about anything other than a problem.

Or so he’d thought. “I don’t mean it like that,” said the Valkyrie, staring absently down at her two half-filled mugs, one in each hand. “I mean there’s something – _different,_ about him. Not in a good way. He’s not himself.”

Thor frowned at that. “What do you mean?” 

“I dunno, exactly. He’s been … moody, lately. On edge. He snaps at people; acts like he doesn’t have any patience for anyone anymore. Keeps to himself more, too.” The Valkyrie shook her head, took a swig from the mug in her right hand, then looked up at him. “When we first got on the ship, he seemed … hells, there’s no other word for it. He seemed _happy._ Not saying he and I were best mates all of a sudden, but he was even pleasant enough company. Now, though – everything’s off. _He’s_ off.”

Thor considered this for a moment, trying to ignore the growing feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach. Surely there was nothing to truly feel uneasy about. Loki was no longer the man he had been; he’d more than proven that. On the other hand, this line of conversation was not exactly comforting. “Maybe he’s just –”

“Haven’t you noticed?” she interrupted him, and to her credit, the words came out not accusatory, but merely curious. “He spends more time with you than with anyone else on the ship.”

Thor took a moment to consider this. _Had_ he noticed? What she said was true; Loki spent most of his day at Thor’s side. So, for that matter, did Heimdall and the Valkyrie herself. Thor may’ve become king, but surrounding himself with a council of advisors who were, for all intents and purposes, a council of fellow leaders had seemed like the wisest – and least pig-headed – way to rule. And so Thor was rarely alone, rarely without Loki alongside him.

And in the past week or so, Thor supposed he had noticed that Loki had been … quieter. A little more subdued. Not quite as ready with a quip or a grin. Thor had chalked it up to how busy they’d been, how many problems of a practical and mechanical nature they’d had to find a solution for – how tired they all were. Thor had noticed the change because he’d missed it, missed the gentle teasing and high good humor that had been radiating from his brother ever since Loki had shown up home once more. They’d all lost so much in an instant, and had so much to surmount on their slow pilgrimage to Earth. Thor hadn’t realized how much he’d been relying on his newly-whole brother to cheer him until that energy and light had dimmed slightly.

But Loki was not on board to be Thor’s personal morale officer. Thor knew his brother had returned as much for their people as he had for Thor – that Loki had even, in some ways, returned for himself. And if Loki’s energies and enthusiasm were flagging as much as any of them, it hadn’t resulted in him shirking any of his duties or loyalties. 

Or so Thor had thought. “I think Loki’s making an effort around me,” said Thor slowly. “He’s never been impatient with me, or on edge. Quieter, maybe, but not –”

“He snapped at Hulk yesterday,” said the Valkyrie, and for the first time, there was a faint hint of anger in her face. “Accused him of being too stupid to be able to help out with anything, let alone something as sophisticated as maintenance work. It wasn’t just cruel, it was _wrong_ – Hulk saved us a lot of hassle by bending that access hatch back into shape. Would’ve taken us half a dozen hours of work if we’d had to replace it.” Her face softened just slightly. “When the big guy damn near started crying, Loki apologized – but still.”

“I believe you,” said Thor. His voice was grim. Things were dire indeed if Loki was setting off on the Hulk, of all people. “I’ll – I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you,” said the Valkyrie, looking relieved. She raised both mugs in a toast to him, and just before putting the left one to her lips, Thor heard her mumble, “Lots of luck to you.”

Thor smiled a bit, but couldn’t deny another lurch in the pit of his stomach. He had a feeling he’d need a bit of luck.

* * * * *

And then, of course, he simply didn’t do it.

Thor was relatively certain this wasn’t cowardice on his part. He had reached an understanding about his relationship with his brother, when Thor was sitting in the squalor of the Sakaar dungeons while Loki’s illusion took it in turns to offer sympathy and bait him. Thor loved his brother – even needed him – but he could _make_ Loki do nothing. The only way to reach Loki was to let Loki reach out to him first. 

And it had worked. Loki had stopped running away – from his family, from his people, from himself – the moment he had stopped being chased. He’d changed; he had, as Thor had told him he could, become _more._ Something wasn’t quite right now, something was clearly bothering him; but Thor was certain it was not plans for planetary domination or annihilation. (Loki had apparently reached a right healthy point where he’d only annihilate planets at his brother’s specific request.) Loki had earned himself space; Thor was content to wait and let his brother come to him when he was ready to speak about whatever was bothering him.

But then – to no real surprise – Loki forced his hand.

 _Lots of luck to you,_ the Valkyrie had said. Thor found himself wondering if perhaps the time had come to make his own luck.

* * * * *

“Loki?”

“What?” Loki hadn’t quite swallowed down the irritability that had been rising in his throat, and the single word came out harsher than he’d intended. He was curled up against the corner of his bunk, a book tucked into the crook of one arm. He’d retired early that evening, hoping to get in some much-needed reading before his eyes grew too heavy to keep open. 

No rest for the weary, apparently. The door to his tiny cabin opened slowly, and his brother’s head popped around the side. “Mind if I come in?”

 _Yes, very much._ He swallowed that down more quickly, and was able to force himself to smile. “Something I can help you with?”

He saw a fleeting expression cross Thor’s face – too quickly to register the emotion behind it, but it wasn’t hard to guess. 

Oh, dear. His brother wanted to talk to him.

Thor slid the door shut behind him, then leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. _Rematch with the Valkyrie, take a hammer to the face, fall through the half-wit sorcerer’s vortex …_ It took Loki a moment to realize his brain was itemizing things he’d rather do than have this conversation. 

Loki lowered his book a fraction, but kept it open and at the ready, hoping that perhaps Thor might take the hint. “I’d offer you a place to sit, but I’m afraid I’m fresh out of chairs. Or places to put them.”

A half-smile pulled at the corners of Thor’s mouth. “I’m all right, Brother.” He hesitated, trying to find the right words, but Loki could see the thought written plainly on his face: _Are you?_

“And I'm as well as can be expected,” said Loki. “As are we all.” The words came out rather tightly. “Was that all you wanted?”

Thor looked at him steadily. Not with disappointment, not with judgement – but simply with a quiet consideration. And quite suddenly, Loki felt a wave of disappointment wash through his chest. Not at Thor, but at himself. It was an old feeling, one he hadn’t experienced since returning home to Asgard, and he was rather chagrined to feel it again. 

Loki sat up on the edge of the bed, gently closing the book and cradling it between his palms. It was one of the very few from his personal collection that he’d happened to have tucked away in a pocket dimension, and which therefore had not gone up in the flames of Ragnarok. It was a comfort, in a time when comforts were few and far between. “This is about this afternoon, I take it?” His tone didn’t quite make it a question. “I’ll tell you in advance – whatever you’ve come to say to me, I’ve no doubt you’re right.”

He had least had the undeniable amusement of watching this statement bring his brother up short. “I’m – what did you say?”

Loki couldn’t quite keep the smile from tugging at the side of his mouth. “I’m not going to be saying _that_ twice, so if you missed it the first time, more’s the pity for you. But my point is –” The amusement faded as the wash of disappointment came back. “I-I was wrong to speak to Vor so. Especially in front of the Council like that. She was only trying to help.” He couldn’t quite seem to help but add, with a note of frustration in his voice, “It’s just that pessimism is the very _last_ thing we need around this ship right about now.”

“She’s just a bit overly cautious. Trying to watch out for us all. Though I see your point.” Thor smiled, then said hesitantly, “It’s just –”

“I-know I-know I- _know._ ” Loki nearly growled with frustration. “I can’t snap at people. Ever. They take it too much to heart – even when they shouldn’t. And she shouldn’t’ve. I really barely said two words to her.”

“She was crying, Loki.”

Loki shifted uncomfortably. “I … damn. I didn’t mean to do that. Didn’t mean for her to take it that personally.”

“You’re a leader here,” Thor pointed out. He pushed away from the wall, then sat on the edge of the bunk by Loki’s side. “And more. When they call you the Savior of Asgard now – they mean it. You are a _hero,_ Brother. The people have come to look up to you. What you say carries true weight, even if you don’t mean it to.”

Loki sighed, then rested his chin in his hand. “I am sorry. I’ll find her and – and apologize.” 

“Thank you,” said Thor, a note of cautious relief in his voice. Loki gave him a mock-glare.

“So I guess,” said Loki, trying to keep his voice light, “that I’ll just have to go back to antagonizing _you_ when I need to let off a little steam.”

“Sounds about right.” Thor smiled, and while the smile reached his eyes this time, there was something odd about it that Loki could not put his finger on. Loki had just drawn a breath to ask him if there was something else, when Thor said, “Got a bit of a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” The word came out more tiredly than he meant it to.

“We’re two days’ travel from our next stop.”

Loki looked at Thor blankly. “We don’t have a stop scheduled in two days’ time. There isn’t even anything on the route in the next two days _to_ stop at.”

Thor waved a hand airily. “We made a bit of a course correction.”

“What?” Loki snapped to his feet. “Brother, we can’t keep getting sidetracked by every roadside attraction. I know we occasionally need to stock up on supplies, but we have to keep that weighed against how much time we can afford to lose, especially as we’re running out of anything to trade. Besides –”

“I didn’t tell you where we’re going.”

“That’s beside the point!” When Thor continued to look at him, Loki gave a slight snort and leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, mimicking his brother’s earlier pose. “All right, fine. What’s the destination so fantastic that it merits interrupting our course and delaying our trip?”

“We,” Thor grinned, “are going to Nonesuch.”

Loki stared at him. 

“It’s not just about a pit stop, of course; you’re right that we can’t afford many of those. But one of the gladiators, Kassyndra; she’s from Nonesuch and is eager to get back home.” His brother, blast him, was grinning more broadly, knowing fully well he’d struck a chord. “And, I’m sure, we can pick up a few of those supplies you said we should be trying to do without while we’re there.”

Loki was still momentarily speechless. Then he coughed, attempting to appear aloof. “I don’t see why you’d think I’d be excited about dropping by that backwater planet.”

“Oh, yes,” said Thor solemnly. “The foremost center of magic and mysticism, this side of the galaxies _and_ the Nine Realms. Can’t imagine why I’d think someone like you might find it an intriguing place to visit.”

Loki barely heard him. Nonesuch. They were going to Nonesuch. They’d only been there once before, centuries ago, and he hadn’t even had time to enjoy it. He could feel the corners of his mouth twitching, as he tried in vain to hold back the thrill of excitement rising in his chest.

“… Well, damn,” said Loki at last, finally allowing himself a reluctant but no-less-genuine smile. “If the course has already been laid in –”

“It has.”

“ – then I suppose there’s nothing I can do but quietly go along for the ride.”

“Quietly go along for the ride?” Thor snorted, but his good eye gleamed with amusement. “That, Brother, will indeed be the day.”


	2. Planetside

“Smell that?” asked Loki, breathing deeply.

Thor raised an eyebrow at him, sniffed experimentally, and then coughed. “You mean that sort of cinnamon-lavender-spoiled milk kind of smell?”

“Exactly,” said Loki. His eyes were shining as he gazed at the nearest stalls surrounding them in the Marketplace. “That’s the scent of magic, Brother!”

“If you say so,” said Thor, coughing again. He held a hand up to his nose, then turned to the Valkyrie. “I suggest trying to breathe through your mouth.”

The Valkyrie had opened her flask and was holding it under her nose in an apparent attempt to override the scents wafting towards them. “I should’ve stayed on the bloody ship.”

“Spoilsports.” Loki tried for a smirk, but he was too delighted for the expression to come across as anything other than a beam. 

Asgard had been no stranger to magic, of course. But most Asgardians used items of magic as machines or tools, little caring to know the intricate theory behind what they wielded. Few practiced magic in their own right; Frigga and Loki had been notable for their magical abilities not only because of their undeniable talent – but because few others took up the practical skills behind magic at all.

Not so in Nonesuch.

The legends of how the planet had come to be were as varied as they were outrageous. Formed by the dwarves of Nidavellir from the dust and ashes of a thousand dead worlds. Created by a cadre of ancient alien sorcerers, working in harmony to build a haven for all practitioners of magic. Spun by the spell of a sentient star, whispering timeless secrets and universal truths into the bones and heart of the planet itself.

As a newly-reformed optimist, Loki would’ve liked to put his money on that last one – though given Nonesuch’s reputation, it was entirely possible that the first was the more likely.

The planet itself was more properly described as a planetoid – small in size, irregularly shaped – and yet carrying an array of moons and rings that had made their approach somewhat tricky. They’d tried to dock the ship in orbit, only to receive an undeniably snippy message over the comms system that informed them that all visitors must make their way to the planetside shipping yard.

(“That really kinda gave me a hunch it hadn’t been such a good idea to go,” Thor would say later, prompting Loki to ask, “Then why in heaven’s name didn’t we turn _back?”_ It had taken everything he had not to stab Thor upon receiving a most unsatisfactory answer.)

To accommodate the tourism traffic, the shipping yard turned out to located in a pocket dimension stuffed into a two-dimensional gateway located on a horizon’s edge. Such dimensional shenanigans could give even the most experienced of pilots a spot of motion sickness, and Miek had been sick all over the control panel before Loki had stepped forward to take over the landing procedures. But as Loki stood alongside his brother and the Valkyrie in the center of the Marketplace – his eyes gleaming as he drank in the sights, breathing deeply to catch that unmistakable tang of magic in the air, unconsciously grinning his delight – he found the fuss had been worth every bit of it.

The Marketplace was the heart of Nonesuch, a crowded thoroughfare lined with a seemingly unending variety of stalls and shops. Thor and the Valkyrie were turning one way and the other to look down each end of the street, only to be reminded that, as far as their eyes could see, the street had no visible end. It seemed to stretch on infinitely, which everyone in the party save Loki seemed to find slightly disconcerting. 

Around them, those Asgardians who had decided to explore were chattering excitedly, moving off in groups of twos and threes and fours as they made their way through the throngs to take in the sights. Lady Vor, who was standing nearby with her mother and sister, caught Loki’s eye and gave him a hesitant wave. He smiled at her in return, with genuine warmth, and watched as Vor visibly brightened. She smiled back, then turned and began chatting with renewed energy to her sister, pointing towards a stall displaying an array of crystals and clockwork.

 _See, Brother?_ thought Loki. _There’s hope for me yet._ “Now,” he said aloud, all but rubbing his hands together in glee, “Where to first?”

“Where’d we go the last time we were here?” Thor appeared to give up trying to figure out the geography, and his face had a sort of resigned cheerfulness as he turned to regard his brother. “Hey, wasn’t this the planet that had that great pub? The Golden Goblet?”

“Cauldron,” corrected Loki automatically. “And is that really your suggestion? We come back to a planet we visited exactly _once,_ four hundred years ago, and you want to go right back to the only establishment we called upon the last time we were here?”

“… the drinks were good.”

“I’m in,” said the Valkyrie.

Loki shot his brother a pained expression. “Actually, as I recall, the drinks were so good that you were in your cups within fifteen minutes of us walking through the door.” Loki arched an eyebrow. “I also recall that being the reason we had to leave in such a hurry before we got to see anything else.”

Thor smiled a bit sheepishly. The Valkyrie was grinning at him. “My younger, more foolish days,” he said to her hastily. “Well behind me.”

“Let’s hope not always.” She waved a hand at the stalls. “We are on holiday, after all.”

Loki groaned. “The lack of imagination on display is staggering. Look, even if the place is still standing four centuries after our last visit – I daresay you owe me a trip to someplace _new,_ Brother. C’mon. I bet there’s a bookshop around here somewhere …”

They pressed through the throngs to make their way down the street, Loki gazing around him in a kind of awed fascination. Stalls of wares jutted out into the street, while behind them stood more permanent shops alongside bars, restaurants, and inns. He was trying to keep focused on finding a bookshop, but there was so much else to see. One stall held an array of glass orbs containing wisps of flames and twirling vortexes of water; another showcased rows of scarves and cloaks designed to enhance, transform, or hide their wearer; a third was lined with more leaves, flowers, herbs, and tiny bottles of essence extracts and venoms than Loki had ever seen. “For potions,” he explained, off of Thor’s side-eyed look as they passed it.

Around them, street magicians performed conjuring tricks, while spectators alternately oohed and ahhed in wonder, or snorted and muttered amongst each other about the elementary levels of the spells on display. It was, Loki thought with a grin, easy to pick out the locals from the tourists.

He lingered with the Valkyrie over a display of many-sized daggers in the glass display case of a weapons stall – “Each one enchanted! Guaranteed not to miss!” swore the young woman behind the counter, who only winked at him when Loki raised a disbelieving eyebrow. When he glanced over his shoulder for his brother, it was just in time to see Thor ducking into a shop a few doors down, behind the row of stalls.

“… like to see one of these in action,” the Valkyrie was saying, as Loki turned back to the stall. “Any way to put that guarantee to the test?”

“Not out here, with a crowd this size, I’m afraid,” said the woman. She was a short, broad, golden-skin alien, whose dark braids were coiled like a crown around her head. “But if you care to step into the back, I have a target range that would prove most adequate to the task.”

“What, in there?” The Valkyrie indicated the curtain hanging over the doorway in the corner of the stall. “It can’t be more than six feet of space behind you.”

“Dimensionally transcendental,” explained the woman. The Valkyrie looked at Loki.

“Bigger on the inside than it is on the outside,” Loki translated. When the Valkyrie’s hesitant expression didn’t change, Loki added, “It’s quite safe.” 

“Oh, all right,” said the Valkyrie at last. She plucked up the saw-edged dagger she’d been considering. “When in Alfheim and all that, right?”

She followed the smiling proprietor behind the curtain. Loki hesitated, then looked back towards the storefront he’d seen Thor disappear into. His curiosity getting the better of him, Loki made his way towards the shop. He blinked a bit, surprised, when he found it, certain that he had the wrong establishment, but when he stepped closer and peered in through the window, he could see his brother inside, hunched over a glass counter towards the back.

Intrigued, Loki pushed through the front door. The tiny green dragon sitting on its perch by the door warbled a greeting as he passed by, and he smiled, stopping to offer a hand. The dragon nosed his hand slightly, as if catching his scent, then pressed its head against his palm. Loki obligingly scratched gently behind the ridges of the creature’s head, and as he did, he found that the dragon was not a living animal at all – but rather a clockwork creation, so cunningly made and expertly magicked that, until he’d caught sight of the metal seams around its joints, he hadn’t realized the truth of what it was. Impressed in spite of himself, Loki left the tiny mechanical beast and moved to join his brother by the display case.

“All precious metals and magic-grown gemstones – not a flaw to be found,” the proprietor was all but cooing. “Finest handiwork in the galaxy. All enchanted to display lifelike characteristics, of course.”

“What on earth has you so fascinated?” Loki asked, trying to peer over Thor’s shoulder. Thor actually jumped, then looked over at him a bit sheepishly.

“I – I was just – I was thinking about maybe …” Thor trailed off, and Loki looked back into the case. A pearl-white pendant in the shape of a winged horse shone out from the top shelf. The pendant seemed to sense it was on display, for the horse was prancing and stretching its wings – though, being flat, it was not in danger of making any real progress.

“For the Valkyrie,” said Thor, sounding even more sheepish than he’d looked. “I thought she might …”

Loki hid his smile. “It’s a lovely sentiment, Brother. I’m sure she’d like it.” Feigning disinterest, he wandered away, stopping to examine an array of time-keeping pieces in a spinning cabinet. He plucked up a golden fob watch with a sinuously-twining snake twisting round the fob – trying to figure out the trick to getting the watch open without the moving metallic serpent sinking its fangs into his fingers – when he realized he was being watched. He turned away from the cabinet and saw, sitting on a nearby bookshelf, a tiny cage, within which a miniature pair of eyes were fixed upon him.

Frowning, Loki stepped in front of the bookshelf and peered down. Behind the tiny wire bars of the cage, he saw a miniscule creature, no bigger than his thumb, watching him. Its head, body, and six legs were blue, but the hair and multifaceted eyes both shone silver. A pair of golden wings hung down its back, and when it flexed them slightly, Loki could see that the wings were tattered. Tiny antennae – one of which was bent at an unnatural angle – sprouted from the tiny sprite’s head. It was, Loki could see, not a clockwork creation like the others, but a real, living creature.

The unbroken antennae twitched, and Loki was suddenly conscious of a tiny mind pressing just lightly against his own – whispering words of greeting. _Not an “it,”_ he realized with a chill. _A “they.”_ The alien sprite was sentient. 

And, therefore, not a pet being sold, but a prisoner being kept. The whisper came again, slightly stronger, and tinged with such loneliness that Loki felt an answering twinge tighten across his chest.

He was dimly aware of Thor speaking behind him. “How much was it again?” 

“Ordinarily, I couldn’t let it go for any less than five hundred. But for a new visitor to our fair city – two fifty.” The shopkeeper smiled, his teeth almost dull in a face that seemed to be comprised of some sort of crystal. 

“I may have to take some time to consider,” said Thor, reluctance in his voice. He stepped back slightly, then jumped when Loki seemed to materialize beside him.

“Perhaps an installment plan?” Loki said, returning the shopkeeper’s smile. “A down payment now, with a guarantee that the item in question will be waiting for my brother when we return in six months’ time?”

“But we aren’t –” Thor began.

“Brother,” said Loki, smiling brightly, “Why don’t you show the man that mirror diamond we found on Nanibia Prime?”

Thor hesitated a fraction of a moment, then reached a hand into one of the compartments of his belt and pulled out the tiny gemstone. He handed it to the shopkeeper, who studied it carefully.

“Exquisite,” the shopkeeper proclaimed at last. “If it is real. But –”

“It’s real,” said Loki smoothly, “And there’s half a dozen more like them back on our homeworld. What do you say?”

The shopkeeper considered. “A moment, while I ascertain the gem in question is a genuine artifact, and no magical counterfeit? I presume you take no offense.”

“Anyone in your line of business would need to guard against forgeries,” said Loki graciously. Thor raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise kept quiet.

Humming slightly, the shopkeeper dropped the gem onto a golden scale. The scale wobbled slightly, then balanced perfect – despite the fact that nothing was held on its other side. The shopkeeper smiled faintly.

“All seems in order, then. Well!” He offered a hand to Thor, who took it after only a momentary hesitation. “We have a deal, good sir. I’ll keep the down payment, and see you within the next six cycles with the rest. The pendant will be yours!”

“Thank you,” said Loki, giving a slight bow, and then he tilted his head towards the door. Thor opened his mouth to protest, closed it again, then nodded tightly at the smiling proprietor and followed Loki out of the shop.

“Want to tell me why you made me give away the only bit of pocket money I had left, Brother?” said Thor, when they’d made their way back towards the dagger stall to wait for the Valkyrie. “We aren’t coming back in six months’ time – and, even if we were, I don’t have any other mirror diamonds.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” said Loki. With a flourish, he produced the winged horse pendant and held it out to Thor.

Thor’s good eye nearly bugged out of his head. “You were – did you – you _stole_ that?” he finally got out, looking as if he were attempting to hold off a coronary. Loki sighed good-naturedly.

“Of course I stole it,” said Loki. “Highway robbery, two hundred and fifty. It’s worth seventy-five at most. Well,” and he held up the pendant as he considered it, “Maybe a hundred, a hundred and twenty. The enchantment is exquisite.”

“ _How?_ ”

“That miserable man was too focused on making certain the currency wasn’t a forgery. He didn’t bother to check and see if _I_ was.”

It took Thor only a moment. Then he sighed, momentarily closing his good eye. “ _You_ were the illusion, not the gem.” 

“Child’s play to cast one illusion to stand in for me, and hide sight of my true self while I collected our souvenirs.” Loki’s smile dipped slightly. “And set free a prisoner.”

Thor made a noise that was somewhere between a strangled laugh and a growl. “So, you didn’t just steal – there’s more? No, wait; that was an idiotic question. Of course there’s more.” He looked heavenward for patience. “What is it? What else did you do? Will I be mad?”

“I don’t think so,” said Loki, “But the proprietor may well be.” He handed the pendant to Thor, then twisted his hand in midair, green light shimmering faintly around his palm. Then he opened his hand, and there stood the tiny sprite, their huge, iridescent eyes shining up at the brothers in the shadows of the merchant's stall. 

“… Oh,” said Thor. He leaned down, putting himself at something approaching eye level with the sprite, and smiled kindly. “Hello, there.”

The sprite trilled something in return from their beak-like mouth, then offered the end tarsomere of their frontmost leg. One corner of Thor’s mouth twitched upward, and he extended a forefinger to softly hook underneath the sprite’s offered appendage in the gentlest of handshakes.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” said Thor. The sprite trilled again, then turned and regarded Loki. Loki gave a little shrug.

“I would make my way out of this city as fast as possible, were I in your position. Just in case.” Loki hesitated for a fraction of a moment. “Maybe – you can find your way home?”

Cocking their head at him, the sprite closed both multifaceted eyes in a slow blink. Then the creature spread their tattered wings, the holes filling with a soft green light. At once, the sprite was airborne. They dipped slightly in midair, and Loki felt the touch of that tiny mind again – an unmistakable surge of gratitude. Then the sprite spun off above the tops of the thoroughfare and into the skies beyond.

Loki was still looking up after the tiny creature when he heard Thor say, “That was well done, Brother.”

“I don’t like to see anyone in a cage.” Loki met Thor’s gaze, and was relieved to see Thor looking back with nothing but a kind of quiet pride. “Don’t go reading too much into it.”

“Savior of Asgard,” Thor teased, but he was beaming, and before Loki quite knew what was happening, his brother reached over to give him an affectionate squeeze to the shoulder. Loki sputtered, mock-affronted, just as the Valkyrie emerged from behind the curtain.

“Don’t go getting any ideas that I’m, you know … _nice,_ now,” insisted Loki, as the Valkyrie hefted her new dagger, waving her goodbyes to the golden-skinned proprietor. 

“No fear of that,” deadpanned Thor, as they surreptitiously began to make their way down the other side of the street, away from the jewelry shop. “Valkyrie, what did you –”

And that was when everything stopped.


	3. Trouble Finds You

Time stood still.

The noise cut off as abruptly as if a plug had been pulled. Around them, the bustling crowds stood frozen, mouths open in mid-sentence, feet raised in mid-step, gestures locked into a silent tableau. A merchant’s hand was extended, suspended coins hanging in midair above his palm as he stood with his customer in mid-transaction. A conjurer cradled a now-motionless flame before her, the static light of it illuminating the underside of her face.

The three of them stood in the middle of it all, staring, speechless. The Valkyrie turned to Loki with a raised eyebrow, looking more stunned than suspicious. “Is this you?”

Loki shook his head, feeling his stomach drop. He could sense the magic around them, thick and heavy, a pressure against his chest that made it difficult to breathe. His hands curled just slightly at his sides, bracing himself to conjure a spell of his own – once he knew properly what they were up against. Thor noticed Loki’s stance and his own face tightened, a thread of lightning forming around one clenched fist. 

Then Loki saw them. Two figures in heavy, dark cloaks, standing out immediately because they were the only other people who were moving.

“Brother,” said Thor quietly, though the sound seemed to reverberate in the stillness, “Surely this is not about what happened in the shop?”

The Valkyrie adjusted her hold on her dagger, shooting them a look that managed to be both murderous and withering. “What. Happened. In the shop?”

“Er,” said Loki.

The two approaching aliens seemed to realize they’d been spotted, though they didn’t bother to hurry their pace. But each raised a hand, and crackling bursts of crimson light began to form around their fingers. Pure energy – pure power.

“Run,” said Thor, and after a split second of hesitation, Loki and the Valkyrie began to move, Thor close behind on their heels. They only made it a few steps before another cloaked figure stepped into their path, and they slammed into a halt one behind the other – not by choice. Loki looked down to see thick black vines had wrapped themselves around his ankles, anchoring him to the cobblestone street. The Valkyrie hissed, leaning down to begin chopping at the nasty things with her saw-edged dagger.

“Don’t,” said Loki quietly. She gritted her teeth but stopped, lowering the dagger but keeping it held loosely at her side. 

“Please don’t give me an excuse to add ‘resisting arrest’ to your list of charges.” The newcomer stepping forward was shorter than any of them, but with her heavy cloak, sinuous grace, and unsettling smile, she was decidedly disconcerting. Her hair was long and white, framing a violet face that was illuminated by the glow of the time spell wrapped around her hand. “I trust, now that I have your attention, that these measures are not necessary?”

“We intend to cooperate fully,” said Loki smoothly, and the woman’s smile broadened. She waved her free hand almost lazily, and the vines around their ankles loosened, then disintegrated into a burst of dust and ash. Loki did his best not to shutter.

“Hello,” said Thor uneasily, though he tried to return her smile. “I’m –”

“Just a visitor to this planet,” broke in Loki. “As are we all. Who are you?”

“The head of the Guardmage of Nonesuch,” said the woman. Her eyes were large and silver-hued, and Loki felt an uncomfortable chill as her gaze slid over the three of them, settling on Thor. “Name, rank, and planet of origin?”

“It’s Th–” Thor began, and was cut off when Loki shifted his weight to trod heavily on his brother’s foot. “– Thackery,” Thor finished smoothly. “From the planet … Earth.”

The Mage gave a knowing smile. “Is that so?” Movement rippled within the crowds, and suddenly the three of them were surrounded, half a dozen aliens in matching dark cloaks forming a semi-circle around them. Their hands each glittered with the light of a different spell held at the ready, and Loki felt his own hands tense at his side, the Valkyrie tightening her grip on her new dagger. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of this ‘Earth.’ Which is just fine, because you’re not from there. Are you, my lad?”

“We-ell, I mean, not – lately. Am I from there. Because I’ve been living somewhere else. Sakaar? You may’ve heard of that.” Thor glanced at Loki, who shot him his best _is-this-really-the-best-you-can-do_ glare.

“You’re not Thor Odinson, crown prince of Asgard?” asked the Mage. She stepped slowly towards them, and their little party drew back, though surrounded as they were, there wasn’t really anywhere for them to go. “It’s all right; you needn’t bother answer. Rhetorical question, that. We know who you are, Your Highness.”

“Then why ask?” Thor’s voice was tight. “A waste of all our time.”

“Ah, but at the moment – we all have time to waste. Don’t we?” The Mage waved a hand to indicate the frozen crowd, and the anger on Thor’s face deepened, though he said nothing. 

“Look, what do you want with us?” The Valkyrie shifted her weight as she moved to put herself slightly between Thor and the Mage, as best as she could manage it. The Mage seemed to notice, looking amused.

“Not all of you. Just him.” The Mage pointed at Thor. “Thor Odinson, you are under arrest by order of the Mayor of Nonesuch.”

The other members of the magical guard surrounding them raised their hands, and the Valkyrie narrowed her eyes, twirling out a second dagger blade and crouching slightly into a fighting stance. But Loki was still watching the Head Mage, and when he saw the scarlet light flash across her hand, he conjured the warding spell and flung it up around Thor almost in reflex. 

But still not quite fast enough.

The Mage’s spell hit Thor first, her light wrapping around his wrists. Loki’s shield bounced harmlessly – and ineffectively – against the bindings, disintegrating into shards of green light before vanishing entirely. 

Thor growled in surprise. The spell had wrapped itself around his wrists, binding his hands together with thick black chains of undulating magical energy. Lightning surged down his arms, but when the crackling electricity contacted against the chains, a flare of dark energy ricocheted back, rippling across his hands. Thor gave a startled cry.

“What – what _is_ this?” Thor demanded, staring down at his wrists. Welts were forming where the energy surge had lashed against his skin.

“A binding spell,” said Loki, glaring daggers at the Mage. He lowered his voice as he added, “An annoyingly powerful one, by the looks of things. I can’t remove it, Brother – and neither can you.”

“Struggling will only make things worse for you,” said the Mage, as calmly as if nothing had happened. “I suggest you relax. You all should. In fact, Your Highness – your companions are free to go. Our warrant is only for you.”

“I assure you, madam, there must be some mistake –” Loki began, stepping towards the Mage, only to find his way blocked by several of the guard. He stopped, held his hands out placatingly. “This can’t possibly be right. We’ve done nothing of note – we’ve only just arrived on this planet. We’ve barely been in the city half an hour!” 

“Thirty minutes or thirty years – it matters not to me.” The Mage’s face was, indeed, impassive. “There’s a warrant out for your prince’s arrest; it’s that simple. I’m sure it’s difficult for you to accept, but certainly you would not expect us to make an exception to our legal process simply because Mr. Odinson is someone of import? I’ve always heard Asgardians were fairer than that.” She gestured impatiently towards two of the other guard, and they slid forward, hands shining with red light, expressions making a clear threat. “Now, Your Highness – if you’ll come peacefully and quietly? I’m sure these frozen folk would like to get back to their shopping.”

Thor tensed, gaze darting about, Loki knew, as he considered his options on fighting his way out. Loki saw the Valkyrie transfer both daggers to one hand, then reach towards her belt – towards, he was sure, the blaster she kept holstered at her side.

Loki turned back quickly to the Mage. “You speak of fairness, so we ask for a show of good faith. Tell us the charges.”

“I don’t see that it’s any of your business, frankly.” 

“Then I’ll ask,” said Thor, fists clenched within his bonds. “What are the charges?”

“Everything will be explained to you once you’re brought before the Mayor for the trial.” 

“Look,” said the Valkyrie, putting on her best _let’s all try to get along here_ smile. “My Lady – what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” said the Mage. Then she sighed. “Lorca.”

“Lady Lorca, this man here is –”

“Yes, I quite forgot to introduce myself!” Loki sang out. The Valkyrie glared at him, but this was becoming something rather routine and was, therefore, easy to ignore. “Loki, brother of Thor, and fellow prince of Asgard. And as the accused’s brother, I demand to accompany him to his arrest and trial.”

“Loki, _don’t,_ ” Thor hissed. Loki spared him a quick glance, then looked back at Mage Lorca.

“Oh, we know who you are, Your Highness.” Lorca gave a little shrug. “We were just willing to let justice rest only upon the true wrongdoer. But if you wish to throw in your lot and serve as his counsel, I’m sure our Mayor will at least entertain your offer. If you think you’re familiar enough with our laws to get the job done –”

“I’ll be fine,” said Loki. He nodded at Thor encouragingly, who gave him a glare that managed to combine fury with desperation. “We’ll be fine. We’ll both come along quietly; no need for undo roughness.”

“We’re not savages, Your Highness,” said Lorca, nodding at her guard. The group snapped to, then turned and began half-escorting, half-pulling Thor down the street, threading through the still-frozen throng. Loki winced, then turned hastily to the Valkyrie.

“Find Heimdall,” he whispered, “Please.”

“And tell him what?” The Valkyrie waved at the retreating group of guards, who were weaving expertly among the still-frozen crowd. Two of the guard had stayed behind to wait for Loki, their hands glinting with red light in an admittedly disconcerting way. “That Thor’s been arrested for no reason and your brilliant plan was to _let it happen?_ ”

“My brilliant plan is to find out what we’re up against,” said Loki, speaking swiftly. “I don’t think this is about anything that we’ve done since we landed; there’s too many specifics. They know our names, where we’re from. And even a ruling government that can stop time couldn’t roll out an arrest warrant with that much information that quickly. Something else is going on.”

“So I should tell Heimdall …”

“To get everybody back on the ship. Back and safe. And to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.” Loki hesitated. “With or without Thor and me.”

He expected an argument – but, to her credit, the Valkyrie hesitated only briefly before giving a quick nod. “All right.” 

“Thank you,” he said, putting as much earnestness as he could into those two words. He turned to leave, but the Valkyrie grabbed his arm. The motion surprised him, drawing him up short.

But she wasn’t looking at him; she was staring at the motionless throng. “Isn’t – isn’t she going to put the people back to rights?”

“Once we’re out of sight,” said Loki grimly. “I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this place. Perhaps this is how arrests always happen here. Nothing public; that would hurt the tourist trade. So instead, people just … vanish.”

They exchanged a look, and then Loki began to move, following the mass of guards parading Thor down the main thoroughfare, aware of his own small escort. 

And thinking desperately about what next move, if any, they could possibly make.


	4. On Trial

“This is not good,” muttered Thor.

They had been escorted down the Marketplace thoroughfare to the doorway of a ramshackle shop that lay almost hidden behind a cluster of tented stalls. Loki imagined the stalls’ placement were by design, as was the unassuming disrepair of the shop itself. The storefront had been heavily illusioned to inspire the eye to drift away from it, so much so that he and Thor both tripped as they were being led inside, unable to convince their eyes that there was anything in front of them to step into. Loki had just enough time to groan at the irony of the interior – it was a long-abandoned bookshop, forgotten tomes covered in dust and mold and neglect – before they’d been marched straight through and out the back door, which in turn had proven to house a shortcut portal to their ultimate destination.

The Courthouse.

They knew it was called such only because of the muttering of the guards amongst themselves, for the brothers had come out of the portal into the building’s lowest levels – and wasn’t “lowest levels” a nicer turn of phrase than “dungeon?” Although, admittedly, the cell they’d been shoved into was not the worst of such places that Loki had found himself in. It was clean, at least, and if not quite as polished as Asgard’s golden prison chambers, it at least had blue-tinted forcefields instead of bars; and what it lacked in windows, it made up for in decent lighting.

They’d been left alone there – utterly alone, for not only had the guards gone out of sight, but the other cells were disconcertingly empty. Nominally, Loki supposed they were being held here until the so-called “Mayor” had time to see them, but he had a feeling the real motive was to leave them properly cowed and pliant. And frightened.

“Things might not be that bad,” Loki lied, working to keep his voice soothing as he twisted his hands over the writhing black restraints binding his brother’s wrists. “Nonesuch _is_ a very theatrical planet. They might just be trying to scare us.”

“Well, it’s working.” Thor winced as another flare of green light fell from Loki’s fingers and sizzled against the bindings. Thor’s wrists were covered in welts from Loki’s failed attempts to break the restraints, though he had yet to offer any complaints. 

Loki caught the wince, however, and forced himself to stop, though admitting defeat left him with a lump of anxiety in his throat. Bad enough to be in a cage – but Thor’s restraints were something worse. To be bound in some way by a sorcerer meant you were in _their_ control – your will, your life, your soul, all theirs for the taking.

No need to fill in his brother on this.

Thor caught the anxiety in Loki’s face and nodded towards the blue-tinted forcefield. “You could try breaking through that instead.”

“I saw them casting anti-tampering wards once they sealed us in. I’m afraid any tinkering on my part will bring them running.” Absently, Loki wove a quick spell over Thor’s wrists, soft green light coating the fresh welts like a salve. Not a true healing spell, but an effective illusion that convinced the body the wound was gone – and so, effectively, masked the pain. 

“Thank you.” Thor sighed in relief, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders as he massaged at his wrists. Then he stepped up as close as he could manage to the forcefield, looking out at the empty corridor, at the empty cells surrounding them. “Why did you stop us from telling them that I was – that Asgard –”

Loki gave a half-smile in spite of himself. Thor still struggled to think of himself as a king, which of course lent to him being one of Asgard’s better rulers. “We still don’t know what they want with you. Finding out you’re now Asgard’s king might make you a more formidable opponent – but it would also tell them that Odin is dead, which means one less powerful force in our corner. Same goes for Asgard’s destruction. Until we know what they want, we’d best keep our cards close to the chest. They know enough about us as it is.”

“… right,” said Thor. He spent a few more moments staring out at the empty cells, then turned back to face Loki with a somewhat challenging expression. “Well. While we’re on the subject, may I just ask you: what the hell were you thinking?”

“What?” Loki blinked at him. “How is that on the subject?”

“Never mind that,” said Thor. “Did you catch what they said about _‘throw in your lot?’_ For whatever reason, I was the only one they were after. They were going to let you _go,_ Loki. And now you’re _here._ What if they decide to put you on trial, too?”

“Well,” said Loki lightly, “Then won’t it be convenient that I’m already standing right there in the courtroom?”

Thor growled in frustration. “If we are _both_ tried and found guilty, our people –”

“Will be safely guided to Midgard by Heimdall and the Valkyrie.” Loki squeezed Thor’s shoulder. “It’s left in their hands, Thor. They’ll be all right. Now, if it’s not too much of a bother, perhaps you could focus on making certain that _you_ are all right, too?”

Thor’s face softened just slightly. He looked on the verge of saying something else – but then there were footsteps approaching, and a group of guards filed into the hall before them. There was a hissing sound, and the forcefield to their cell vanished. 

“Time to meet your Maker,” said Mage Lorca, stepping out from behind the guards to grin at them with that disconcertingly toothy smile. Loki felt a shiver of disquiet ripple across the back of his neck, though he kept his expression at ease.

“I thought you said the one in charge of these parts was called the Mayor,” said Thor; and Loki, who knew him so well, could see his own disquiet reflected in the tightening of his brother’s shoulders and the set of his jaw, though Thor was giving the Mage his own stiff smile.

“When you meet her,” said Mage Lorca, “You’ll understand. In the meantime, do forgive me the turn of phrase. I just get so excited by a new trial.”

“Trial?” Loki raised an eyebrow. “We have yet to hear the charges.”

“All in good time,” said the Mage. “Time to get a move-on, lads.”

She gestured, and the restraints around Thor’s wrists flared white-hot, jerking him forward. Thor hissed in pain, then stepped towards her, good eye radiating fury – but Loki muttered a quiet, “Nope,” and when Thor glanced at him, Loki tilted his head towards the guards waiting for them outside the cell. 

“C’mon,” said Loki. “And let _me_ do the talking, all right?”

Thor considered this offer for a moment.

“I,” he said at last, “Am going to be executed for sure.”

“ _Please,_ Brother?”

Sighing mightily, Thor nodded shortly, then allowed himself to be taken by the arms and half-pulled, half-pushed down the corridor. Loki walked just behind him, and felt the tension crawling up his back and into his shoulders, his spine ramrod straight. He allowed none of the anxiety to show on his face, of course – keeping his expression composed both as a show for their captors, and as reassurance for Thor.

What followed was an endless maze of hallways and doorways and staircases, all gilt-covered and marble-carved and gem-encrusted, though somehow the line between ostentatious and tacky was never quite crossed. Loki tried mightily to catch glimpses into the rooms behind the occasionally-opening door, but the guards were careful to block his eyeline, and he could gather nothing except a general impression that this “Courthouse” was not so much a place of justice as it was a place one did not easily come back out of.

They were led in silence to a set of ornate double doors, carvings of mythical creatures twirling and twining across the wooden panels. The Mage grinned at them, wiggling her eyebrows at them as they waited.

“You’re a bit mad, aren’t you?” Loki said to her conversationally.

“Jury’s still out on that one,” she said, and was so transparently pleased with her own joke that Loki grinned in spite of himself. Thor looked at both of them with an expression that suggested he wished he were somewhere else.

Then the doors swung upon, and they were prodded into the courtroom.

The courtroom was – there was no other real word for it – majestic. The space itself was massive, with domed ceilings and stained-glass windows soaring high overhead. The floor was inlaid with tiled mosaics that slowly twirled around each other in kaleidoscopic fashion, depicting scenes of stars and planets and galaxies. An aisle cut from one end of the room to the other, and on either side of the aisle stood rows and rows of benches for a curious audience to watch the court proceedings … except that the benches were completely empty. There would, Loki realized, be no public witness to whatever befell them. If this went poorly, they would, indeed, simply vanish.

The aisle itself was covered with a long black tapestry that Loki abruptly saw was woven with scenes of various gruesome executions. He winced.

“They don’t do anything in half measures here, do they?” Thor was also staring at the tapestry. Loki shook his head.

“It would appear not.”

“Bring the prisoner forward!” sang a voice from the front.

“All right, all _right,_ ” snapped Thor, as the bindings on his wrist jerked him forward and off-balance once more. The brothers strode up the aisle towards the front of the room, the guards trailing behind – and, for a moment, Loki was reminded so strongly of another long march towards waiting judgement ( _“Enough! I will speak to the prisoner alone.”_ ) that he felt momentarily breathless. 

Awaiting them, at the end of the aisle, atop a dais some twenty feet off the ground, was the Mayor.

The Mayor of Nonesuch, they’d been told, was technically an elected official; even her title was meant to convey a simple folksiness of small-town charm. Except Nonesuch was not a town, but a planetwide province; and, clearly, “the Mayor” was not really a mayor at all. It was not the right word to describe the willowy, scaled, golden-robed figure sitting atop a judge’s bench -- a seat that was just high enough and just ornate enough that, if one didn’t know better, one might’ve used the word “throne” for instead.

Loki found he was rather getting tired of thrones.

“Case Docket Number Four-Seven-Four-Seven-Three-One,” intoned the bailiff, a short, squarish alien with a narrow, elongated face that put Loki in mind of his childhood wolfhound. Well, except for the face being pale pink. “The People Vs. Thor Odinson of Asgard. Odinson, how do you plead?”

Loki cleared his throat, then stepped forward. “The defense asks –”

“Who addresses the court?” cut in the bailiff.

“Loki of Asgard,” said Loki, bowing slightly. “Counsel for the accused.”

“And also his brother,” intoned the Mayor. Her voice had a deep, rich tone that Loki would not have expected from a being so tall and razor-thin. “Is that not true, Loki-the-Liesmith?” 

Now, _that_ was not a title Loki had expected to hear today.

“They seem to know an awful lot about us, Brother,” muttered Thor out of the corner of his mouth.

Loki hesitated, then turned back to the Mayor. “Far be it from me to deny either my house or my reputation, Your Honor,” he said, attempting a disarming smile. “But –”

“You will address the Mayor either as ‘Your Worship’ or ‘Your Excellency,’” droned the bailiff. 

“But, Your _Excellency,_ ” said Loki smoothly, “We cannot enter a plea, for we have yet to hear the charges.”

“Wait,” said Thor. Loki turned to glare at him. “Where’s the counsel for the prosecution?”

“I thought you promised me that I could do all the talking, Brother,” Loki hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

“Well, it’s a fair question,” huffed Thor.

“We need no advocates for the prosecution,” said the Mayor. “That is my duty as judge.”

Thor frowned. “Isn’t that a bit of a conflict-of-interest?”

“You are lucky we are allowing _you_ counsel, God of Thunder.” The Mayor grinned, and Loki felt his chest tense. These were not titles he’d ever heard used outside of the Nine Realms. What was going _on?_ “Now, where were we?”

“I believe we were just about to be read the charges, Your Excellency,” said Loki, before Thor could start again.

“The specifics of the charges must be requested by the defense before the start of the trial.” The bailiff was holding a quill over the papers in front of him, apparently waiting to make a notation. “How does the defense plead?”

Loki folded his hands neatly behind his back. “The charges first, if you please.”

“If the defense refuses to enter a plea, one will be provided for him,” said the bailiff, nodding to the sides of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki could see several of the guards – and their new friend Mage Lorca – beginning to move back towards them.

Loki turned to the bailiff. “We will enter a plea when we’ve been told the charges.”

“The accused will be held in contempt of court, citing failure to abide by the laws of Nonesuch.” The guards were just behind them now, and Mage Lorca was forming a most unpleasant ball of black light in her hands. “The sentence will be carried out tomorrow at –”

“Stop.” Loki glared furiously – not at the bailiff, but at the Mayor. “ _What are the charges?_ ”

The Mayor studied him for a moment, then gave an almost imperceptible nod. Behind them, the guards fell back; Mage Lorca lowered her hands, the dark shadows wrapping around her fingers fading away, her face undeniably disappointed. 

“The charge,” said the Mayor, “Is murder in the first degree.”

Loki’s mouth dropped open. For once, he was at a loss for words. He darted a glance over at his brother, who looked back at him with an equally gobsmacked expression. 

“We were on this planet for _five minutes_ before I got arrested!” Thor sounded too confused to be angry. “Who am I supposed to have killed?”

The guards lining the sides of the room actually began to mutter amongst themselves – somewhat angrily, to Loki’s ears – and the bailiff plucked up a golden globe and struck it once against his desk. Instantly, all voices were muted; for a few moments, the guards’ mouths still moved until it gradually dawned that their voices had effectively been silenced. 

“We will have order!” cried the bailiff, glaring menacingly over to the guards. The Mage began to laugh noiselessly, eyes shining with an unsettling delight. After a moment, the bailiff struck the globe once more upon the desk, then replaced the globe in its stand. A few people whispered softly, testing the return of their voices, but the room remained subdued.

The Mayor watched all this with an unreadable smile touching her lips. Then she raised an eyebrow at the bailiff, who hastily picked up his stack of court notes and began rifling through them, apparently searching for something.

“Mr. Odinson exaggerates, of course,” said Loki hastily. “But it is true we have been no more than several hours on this planet. While I agree that this is sufficient time to find mischief –” Thor glared at him for that. “ – I can assure you, my brother did not –”

“This,” said the Mayor, “is the _second_ visit the Princes of Asgard have made to Nonesuch. Is it not?”

Loki blinked. “… is Your Excellency insinuating that these charges are four centuries old?”

The Mayor gazed down at him. “There is no statute of limitations on murder.”

“I did not kill anyone on this planet,” said Thor harshly. “Not now, not four hundred years ago.”

The bailiff had apparently found what he’d been searching for in his papers. “You were not a patron of the Golden Cauldron on your last visit?”

“I – yes,” said Thor. “But –”

“And did you not instigate a verbal altercation with a fellow patron at the pub?”

“I – vaguely remember having a bit of a spat with someone, yes.” Thor’s voice was calm, but Loki could see his hands clenching into fists within the restraints. “But I didn’t _kill_ him! I didn’t even lay a hand on him – or on anyone.” That was true; Loki had dragged him out before the fighting could go from insults to punching.

“But you admit you did start an altercation?” demanded the bailiff.

“We _argued,_ ” said Thor. “With words alone.”

The Mayor raised a hand. “Unfortunately, Prince of Asgard, your _words alone_ kicked off a brawl that lasted well after you’d left. The melee resulted in a man being killed – the man you had been arguing with.”

“… I didn’t know that,” said Thor softly. Then his hands clenched. “But be that as it may, _I_ killed no one.”

“You did say the unfortunate victim was not killed until after my brother and I had already left the premises,” Loki added quickly.

“True enough,” said the Mayor. “But he started the fight. And so by our laws – by _my_ laws – your brother is as responsible for his death as surely as if he’d stabbed him through the heart.”

Thor and Loki both grew still.

“Now.” The Mayor leaned forward almost imperceptibly. “We ask you for the final time. How do you plead?”

“In-innocent?” Loki blurted. He did not mean it to come out as nearly a question, but there it was.

The Mayor smiled, displaying a row of razor-like teeth. “Are you sure?”

Loki hesitated, dropping his gaze. He stood there, leaning forward slightly, mind racing. There had to be a way, had to be a way to give them a real chance of getting out of this mess, had to be another option …

His head jerked up. “Permission to approach the bench?”

The Mayor eyed him for a long moment. Loki held his breath, nearly positive he’d made a mistake; and then she gave a single wave of her hand to beckon him forward. 

“In my chambers, Lie-smith,” she said, indicating a door halfway up the wall; from her throne, she needed merely step across the platform towards it, though for Loki to reach it, he was going to have to climb a short staircase built into the wall. Alone.

Giving Thor what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Loki strode towards the staircase. Thor made to follow him, only to be yanked back by his restraints. Thor threw a glare over his shoulder at a grinning Mage Lorca, but remained silent.

Raising a suspicious eyebrow, the Mayor rose and then glided across the platform, vanishing through the door to her chambers. Loki made his way up the staircase, hesitated, and then followed after.


	5. Bargain

“How do you know me?” asked Loki.

The Mayor smiled slowly. “What do you think of our planet, Your Highness?”

The term made him uncomfortable, though he was not about to show it. “Is your question meant to be an answer to mine, or are you changing the subject? Your Excellency.”

“The former, I assure you.” The Mayor was sitting behind her desk, a massive, carved wooden structure that was far less ostentatious than her judge’s bench, but not all that much less imposing. Both were seats of authority, and gave off the appropriate air of power – of control. The rest of the room was almost barren, save for an enormous glass case against the far wall that contained a collection of talismans, amulets, crystals, and potion bottles. There were no other chairs; no one in this room was meant to feel comfortable, save the Mayor herself.

“I fail to see the connection,” said Loki, glancing away from the overflowing glass case. He turned back to see that the Mayor watching him closely.

“Let me see if I can explain.” The Mayor steepled her fingers in front of her. Up close, her face could fairly be called beautiful, the iridescent scales shining beneath the soft glow of the lighting constructs. “The tourists may speak of wild adventures and magical fantasies come to life, but the truth of Nonesuch is that we are a planet of Order. Whereas you? You are an agent of Chaos. One need only look at you to sense that.”

His brow creased as he gave a slight frown. “You rule over a planet populated by magic-users. Magic, by its very nature, _is_ Chaotic.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. Magic is the epitome of Order.” The Mayor leaned back in her chair, adjusting her golden robes about herself. “The natural state of the universe is a chaotic one, God of Mischief. It is the duty of any civilization to bring order to that chaos, and magic is the ultimate tool to achieve that end. Magic gives us true control.”

Loki gave a little laugh. The Mayor raised an eyebrow. “Care to share the joke?”

“It’s just –” Oh, how was he to explain, to someone so terribly misguided? “I’ve heard so many make the same error. Putting Order on the opposite side of Chaos. Don’t you understand that they are one and the same? Every effect has a cause; Chaos is merely the name we give to those causes we cannot see. But make no mistake – they are there all the same. The laws of the universe always work in perfect order; we just don’t always understand them. Being an agent of Chaos is not about controlling what we cannot see. It is about _accepting_ it.” 

“… I suspected I wouldn’t like you,” the Mayor said at last. She was glaring at him, with an anger that left Loki slightly surprised. “We’ve been researching you and your brother these four hundred years as we’ve built our case. I liked you less and less the more I learned of you. Seeing you face to face only confirms the worst.”

“Well, you’re hardly the first to say that.” Loki folded his hands behind his back. “And if I may say – four hundred years is a long time to hold a grudge.”

“We are fortunate our people are so long-lived.” The Mayor tapped a scaled finger against the top of her desk. “It must be convenient for you Asgardians, is it not? You can run amuck wherever you like, then escape punishment for your misdeeds merely by spending a few decades away and outliving your accusers.”

Loki regarded her for several moments. “Is this truly about what happened in that pub?” he asked at last. “Or is something else going on?”

“You doubt our laws?”

“I doubt your motives.”

“Clever, aren’t you?” she snarled at him.

“I just try to pay attention,” said Loki mildly.

“Do you know that nearly all of the visitors that come to Nonesuch are non-magic users?” The Mayor stood up and came out from behind her desk, pacing in front of it. Loki backed up to give her a wide berth. “The locals, of course, are nearly all adept at the trade – but the tourists are not. They come here to experience a mystery and a power they could never come close to on their own. They respect us – they are in _awe_ of us.” Her voice was not growing louder, but it was deepening, and Loki could see her clawed hands clenching tightly at her sides. “One would hope that the crown prince of Asgard – the prince of a people _renowned_ for their skills with magic – would at least respect us as equals. But does he respect us? Does he respect our laws? Or does he charge in – invading our city, flaunting his power – and instigate a fight that kills one of our own?? So forgive me, Lord of Misrule, if you find me guilty of holding a grudge!”

She’d drawn up in front of him, breathing hard, eyes glittering in her scaled face. Looking as if she might punch him in the face – or strike him down entirely.

But Loki wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the shelves across the room, his eyes scanning the endless rows stuffed with charms and runestones and objects of power. Vessels that did not just channel magic, but all of which held a magic of their own. Almost as if ...

“Are you _listening_ to me?” she hissed. “I, who hold your brother’s life in my hands??”

Loki looked back at her. His voice was utterly mild, though his eyes on her were bright. “You don’t have any magic of your own. Do you?”

She froze, staring at him.

“That’s why you have so many trinkets.” He indicated the case. “All these talismans and potions and wands. You have to use _them_ to cast your spells and incantations, because you have no magic of your own. You’re mystically useless without a source of power.” She didn’t answer, and after a moment, he raised an eyebrow. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

The Mayor was staring daggers. She was at least two feet taller than him; Loki fought the urge to draw back. 

“That,” she said at last, the fury in her voice tightly controlled now, “Is not widely known.”

“It _is_ understandable that you’d wish to keep such a secret as much under wraps as possible. Especially given your position! Absolute ruler over a planet of sorcerers and mages – and you haven’t a single drop of innate power to call your own.” He was looking at her now with genuine pity. Magic itself was intrinsic. Asgardians, Jotuns, humans: all living beings possessed a streak of magic. It was just that few bothered to learn and practice the skills needed to do anything with it. Using magic was no different from carving a statue or playing an instrument. Yes, some would be far more talented at it than others, but everyone could learn at least the basic rules and manage a spell or two, even if the end result was simple and rudimentary.

Loki himself had an undeniable affinity for art of magic, but he’d also honed his talent with centuries of study and training. But the raw magic that ran through his veins was no more or less present in him than it was any other being. 

Except for those rare few, who had somehow managed to lose the magic they’d been born with.

No wonder she hated Thor. No wonder she hated _him._

“What was it?” he murmured, curiosity getting the better of him. He actually stepped closer to her, craning his neck to keep his eyes steady on hers. “Did you make a bargain with some eldritch creature that demanded a sacrifice? Or was it a gamble, and you came out on the losing side?”

Her hand whipped out, too fast for him to counter, and took him by the throat. He stood frozen, feeling her long fingers against his windpipe, her talons resting against his pulse, and wondered which would be worse, asphyxiation or hemorrhaging. The latter seemed unfair, considering that he had already – 

“If you reveal this to anyone,” said the Mayor, picking him up just slightly, so that he was standing on the toes of his boots and trying very hard not to lose his balance, “You’ll join your brother on the executioner’s block. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” he managed, and she released him, quickly enough that he stumbled backwards. She had not been holding him hard enough to hurt, but still he had to resist the urge to massage his neck and rid himself of the feeling of her claws on his throat. “But I must admit, Your Excellency – this development does make me think you might be all the more interested in what I have to offer.”

The Mayor snorted, walking back towards her desk. Threatening him seemed to have regained her some of her composure, perhaps reassuring her that she was still the one in control. “All right, mischief-maker. What is it you are proposing?”

Loki squared his shoulders, raised his head slightly. “The Rune of Ord is said to be located on Nonesuch.”

The Mayor stared at him, startled, then laughed. Loki met her gaze steadily, waiting for her show of mirth to tail off. 

Her laughter abruptly ceased when she caught sight of his unwavering expression. “By the Stars. You’re truly serious.”

“I am,” said Loki. “What do you think I came to Nonesuch _for?_ ”

“The Rune of Ord is a myth,” she said, but Loki caught the note of hesitation in her voice – the _uncertainty_ – and felt a smile tugging unseen at the corner of his lips. 

_Got you,_ he thought.

“All myths have their root in truth. Believe me, I know that better than most.” He clasped his hands easily behind his back. “The Rune of Ord does exist – though it’s whispered throughout the galaxy by quite another name.” He watched her for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “But you knew that already – didn’t you?”

She cocked her head, considering him. “Your proposal for acquiring the Rune would be – what, exactly? A trade?”

“Not a trade,” said Loki. “A repair. You know, I trust, what the Rune of Ord allows its wielder to do?”

“One can use it to master time.”

“Or change history.” Loki stepped towards her again, pouring every ounce of earnestness and intensity into his voice and eyes that he could muster. “Let us retrieve the Rune, and we can use it to go back and repair what was put wrong. We can save the life of the man who died.”

The Mayor stared at him. “You’re serious,” she said at last.

“I assure you, I am rarely anything else but.”

She gave a little laugh. “Then you’re mad.”

“That, too.” He took one more step, daring to place his hands on the top of her desk as he leaned towards her. She drew in a breath, eyes flashing at his daring, but he spoke quickly. “Make no mistake: I know what this sounds like. But I do appreciate your position, Your Excellency. Your sense of justice – your sense of order – it demands satisfaction. It demands _balance._ What I am proposing may sound like a long shot – but it is also the only way to set the crime to rights. It is the only way to restore Order.”

There was a long silence. “… You understand,” said the Mayor, “That if I agree to this plan – and I’m not saying that I do – that the Rune of Ord will be placed in _my_ hands. _I_ will be the one to change history, not you and your brother. You will merely retrieve the Rune for me.”

Loki hesitated. “We came all this way to –”

“It was not a request.”

Loki gritted his teeth, forcing himself to smile. “Of course, Your Excellency. The Rune will be yours.”

She sat at her desk, tapping her scaled fingers upon its smooth surface as she considered him further. “You speak as though some part of you does understand. Do you see why our prison cells remain empty? Because there _are_ no prisoners on Nonesuch. Either the balance can be restored after a crime, or it cannot. If it can, the criminal is given the opportunity to make things right. If it can’t – justice must be served.”

“By which, I assume you mean, the prisoner is executed.”

The Mayor shrugged. “As I said. Balance is restored.” She regarded him steadily for several more moments. “Our courts do not usually permit a counsel for the defense, you know. Our courts do not usually permit a _defense_ for the defense. Why should they be allowed to argue their case? Only the guilty are tried here, of course.”

“Of course,” murmured Loki.

“I allowed you to represent your brother out of polite consideration for your alien ways and customs – and, more importantly, for the novelty.” She rose from her chair and walked over to him once again. Loki felt his throat tighten as she neared him. “If I am going to allow you to continue, you must be willing to _truly_ join the defense.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning,” said the Mayor, “Whatever verdict – and sentence – is found for your brother, you will share in it. If he is found guilty, you will be found guilty. And if he is punished …”

She did not finish. 

“I understand,” said Loki, and he did not flinch as he smiled up at her. “And I accept your terms. All of them.”

“Good.” The Mayor folded her hands together in the sleeves of her robes. “Now. Let’s get our paperwork in order, and then we can go tell the prisoner our good news. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

* * * * *

“The defense,” intoned the bailiff, “has been granted a stay of execution.”

The guards shifted somewhat restlessly at that, and Mage Lorca gave an audible groan of disappointment. Clearly a postponement of judgement was not a common occurrence on Nonesuch. The Mayor raised a languid hand, creating instant silence.

“We have said a _stay._ ” The Mayor cast her gaze imperiously down at the brothers. “Unless the decided-upon terms are met, the sentence will be carried out as so ordered in two days’ time. With, I am pleased to say, an added bonus!”

“I just want you to know, Brother,” Loki murmured quickly, “This is all part of the plan.” The Mayor was nodding towards Mage Lorca, who gave an enormous grin and began striding towards Loki. Thor watched her coming, then turned swiftly to regard him.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much am I going to throttle you, Loki?” hissed Thor out of the corner of his mouth.

“I think,” said Loki, “They’re going to save you the trouble.”

Thor lurched forward, then froze as the restraints on his wrists locked him in place. Grinning wildly, Mage Lorca raised a handful of fire and wiggled her fingers at Loki.

“Two for two!” she said gleefully. “Don’t worry, this will only hurt a bit.”

Her flame-wrapped hand clenched around his wrist. Thor shouted in protest as the spell wrapped itself around Loki’s arm, and Loki yelped, feeling as if his forearm had been plunged into a branding fire. The feeling eased the moment the Mage released him, though whispers of pain still shot down the length of his arm from beneath the writhing black bindings now encircling his wrist. Lorca watched him with a kind of academic interest, as if checking her handiwork, then turned and waved a hand. Thor stumbled forward as his own bindings came apart, the one on his left wrist vanishing entirely.

“Thor and Loki, Sons of Odin –” The bailiff was reading from his newly-signed stack of papers, quickly drawn up at the behest of the Mayor. “You have two days to retrieve the fabled Rune of Ord.”

“The Rune of who?” Thor turned to Loki. “Loki, what is he talking about??”

“Should you do so,” said the bailiff, ignoring Thor entirely, “And the Rune is able to successfully reverse the crime you have committed, the charges will be expunged from your records. Should you fail to do so, you will both be executed for the murder of Ware Glask of Vulcania Prime.”

“ _What?_ This isn’t – _no!_ Why is my brother being drawn into this?” Thor was trying to roar, but it was coming out as almost a plea. “These charges are mine alone!”

“Your brother was not _drawn_ into this,” said the Mayor, once more atop her throne. “He insinuated himself into the thick of it, by his choice and his choice alone. And now he will share your fate. Your freedom – or your punishment.”

Thor turned on him. “ _Loki,_ ” was all he said, but it was enough, and Loki could only shake his head, looking at Thor apologetically.

“I had to –” he began.

“ _Silence!_ ” roared the Mayor, and the two brothers turned to stare at her. “You have two days to retrieve the Rune. You are both free to go, because you remain under the jurisdiction of our Mage. The magic of your bindings leave you in _our_ control, Sons of Odin. Should you try to escape, you will die. If you are not back within two days’ time, you will die. If you try to break the spell of your restraints – or if you succeed in breaking them – you will die. And,” the Mayor leaned forward, black eyes glittering, “If you do not return with the Rune of Ord, you will die. You will restore the life of the man you killed – or you will address the balance with the payment of your own. Are we clear on the stakes?”

Loki cleared his throat. “We are, Your Excellency.”

“Good.” The Mayor leaned back, and for the first time, the grin on her face was one of complete contentment. “Then I suggest you both get started.”


	6. The Broken Clock

Thor wasn’t looking at him.

The guards weren’t technically dragging them out of the Courthouse; no one had laid a hand on either of them, and their escorts were keeping their distance, allowing Thor and Loki to make their way out in their own time. But there was certainly a suggestion that it was time to go – and an unspoken understanding that there would be no wandering of the halls or exploration around closed doors. Loki tried several times to catch Thor’s eye as they made their way back through the corridors, but Thor was looking ahead quite resolutely, shoulders ramrod straight, mouth set – and after the first few attempts, Loki gave it up. 

They were herded back to the room with the portal that had carried them from the abandoned bookshop to the Courthouse. Loki hesitated for the briefest of instances, half-convinced that their two-day reprieve was a lie and the portal would deposit them at the bottom of an ocean or in the heart of a star. But then Thor shot through ahead of him – and so, with a bit of a sigh, Loki hoped for the best and followed.

They emerged not in the bookshop but rather in an alleyway, the shadows deepened and lengthened not just from the buildings on either side of them but from the lateness of the hour. It was hard to tell exactly how late in the day it was, penned in by the alley as they were, but Loki guessed there couldn’t be more than an hour of daylight left.

He leaned back against the weathered brick wall of the nearest building. Then he allowed himself a moment to take a few steadying breaths before looking over at Thor. “Are you okay?”

“Fantastic,” said Thor, and cast him a brief look that Loki – who had known him for so many centuries – still could not quite read. He did not hold Loki’s gaze. “Are you?”

“Always, Thor. Truly.” Loki smiled at his brother, suffusing it with all the warmth and genuine good humor he could muster. “It’s going to be all right, you know.”

But Thor only shook his head, not meeting his brother’s eyes. Loki felt his smile dim. They did not have a lot of time – but whatever it was precisely that had Thor agitated, Loki knew they had to work out that first.

Sighing inwardly, Loki held out his right wrist, studying the undulating black binding now wrapped around his forearm. The restraint still burned slightly against his skin, and he frowned, flexing his wrist against the sting. Beside him, Thor examined his own remaining restraint. He reached out to try and tug at the binding, only to yelp and yank his hand away.

“We can’t touch the restraints any more than we can use magic to trifle with them,” said Loki, as Thor shook the sting out of his fingers. “And I daresay we shouldn’t try too much. I think she meant what she said about the nasty little things killing us if we try too hard to interfere with them.”

“Why are hell are they burning?” asked Thor. “Just to bother us?”

“I believe,” said Loki, with a surge of unease somewhere in the pit of his stomach, “That the discomfort is merely a bonus. Their primary purpose is to serve as our countdown clock.”

Thor finally looked over at him. Then took a breath. Let it out slow and measured. “The burning increases, either until we make it back, or …”

“Or, if we run late, they’ll more than likely send us both bursting into flame.” Loki smiled grimly, regarding his own restraint once more. “As you said. They don’t do things in half measures here.”

“Then I suppose we better get moving,” said Thor. He gestured towards the end of the alleyway. “What’s the next part of the plan?”

Loki looked up from where he had been running his fingers along the edges of the cuff at his wrist. “The plan?”

“Of course,” said Thor, and there was an undeniable edge to his voice. “I know you have one; you said as much. Does it involve a double-cross? Or is it more of a bait-and-switch kind of a thing?”

“Reasonable enough questions,” said Loki mildly. He could see an argument approaching them, but he couldn’t yet tell what was triggering it. “I suppose it would be expecting a bit much to ask –”

“Or,” said Thor, and his unbound hand was clenched at his side, tiny sparks of electricity dancing at his knuckles, “Is it merely that we run out the clock and both die, thereby at least giving our people a two-days’ head start away from this hellhole of a planet?”

The uneasy feeling in the pit of Loki’s stomach was growing. He was beginning to have an inkling of the problem, and he found he was quite at a loss as to how he might address it. “Brother –”

“ _Dammit,_ Loki.” Thor was approaching him now, the tightly controlled fury etched into every line of his face. “What were you thinking?” 

“I was thinking,” said Loki quietly, “That you might trust me.”

“Trust you? _Trust_ you?” Thor stepped back, and Loki had the uncomfortable feeling it was because Thor was resisting the urge to throttle him on the spot. “Is that what you think this is about? Trust?”

“Isn’t it? And I’m not –” Loki held up a hand, before Thor could interject, “I’m not saying I think you don’t trust _me._ We’ve come farther than that, Brother; I know that much. It’s not my loyalty you doubt. Merely my abilities.”

That seemed to bring Thor up momentarily short. He stared at Loki. “… have you lost your mind?” he asked at last.

“Admit it,” said Loki steadily. “You’re worried that I’ve lost my edge. That I’m not up to facing this big a challenge, this chaotic a storm. It’s one thing to use a bit of trickery to steal a trinket, but it’s another thing entirely to face off against odds this tumultuous and expect to –”

“Stop,” said Thor. “Odin’s Beard, Loki. Do you really think what I’m worried about is that you are not up to a challenge? _You?_ Weren’t you listening, back at the Grandmaster’s garage?”

Loki felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “You hardly left me with a choice to do otherwise.”

“Then what in the Nine Realms could’ve convinced you that I have any doubt in you?”

Loki leaned his back against the wall, the bricks cold even through his armor and cape. “If not a lack of faith in me – what’s bothering you?”

“What’s bothering me,” said Thor, and each word came out slowly and deliberately, “Is that they were only after _me._ And now, quite suddenly, it seems you have managed to insinuate yourself right alongside me on the chopping block.”

Loki drew up sharply. “We’re not on the chopping block yet, Thor.”

“No. Not yet.” Thor shook his head, sagging back against the opposing wall. His face was suddenly exhausted. “I haven’t given up, Brother, truly. And I’m always happy to take a chance. But I wanted to take that chance alone. If we can’t find a way out of this, if something happens ... if something happens to _you_ ...”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but the words trailed off. Loki looked at him, and swallowed at something painful in his throat. 

_He looks older,_ Loki thought. _It’s been less than a decade since New Mexico – and he looks_ older. 

Well. A lot had happened since New Mexico. He supposed the years had left their mark on him, too. 

In more ways than one, or so he hoped. _Older and wiser_ – wasn’t that the Midgardian saying?

“Thor.” Loki took the few short steps across the alley and stopped in front of his brother, whose head was slightly bowed. Thor looked up at him almost warily. “We are not done yet, Brother. I’m going to get us both out of this.” Loki smiled, and this time, the warmth in his eyes held just a touch of mischief. “Have a little faith.”

Thor managed a smile back, but there was still a touch of pain around his good eye. “This planet is gonna kill us.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Only if we die.”

Thor groaned, but the last of the tension eased from his face. He reached out to give Loki a gentle clap to the shoulder. “Spoken like a true optimist.”

“And let’s see if we can imagine wherever I got that from.”

“Don’t remind me.” Thor gave his shoulder a squeeze, then released him. “You really have a plan?”

“I do.”

“All right.” Thor gave a massive sigh, then pushed himself away from the wall, squaring his shoulders as if about to enter the field of battle. Perhaps they were, after a fashion. “So … what do we do now?”

“Now,” said Loki, “We find ourselves a pub.”

* * * * *

“‘The Broken Clock,’” Thor read aloud, staring at the sign above the pub door. He arched an eyebrow at Loki. “Is this really –”

“A pub located outside the confines of normal spacetime?” Loki’s eyes were shining. “It really is, Brother.”

“Actually, what I was going to ask was: is this really a good _idea._ ” 

Loki regarded him. “You don’t sound like you’re asking a question.”

“I’m fairly certain I already know the answer.” 

Grinning, Loki strode up to the door and pushed. Nothing happened.

“Is it closed?” Thor’s voice was hopeful.

“How could it be closed? It exists outside of Time.” Loki tapped a finger to his lips for a moment, stepping back to study the pub. Looking at it was difficult; the eye refused to focus until one was almost on top of it, and if you stepped back too far, the entire façade distorted into a rotating blur of freshly painted boards, superseded by rotting planks, overtaken a moment later by a polished stone finish. All versions of the pub throughout the years, existing one on top of the other.

Which, Loki supposed, could be understandably confusing. “If it exists outside of time, why does it look like it weathers and changes?” Thor opened and closed his good eye, as if trying to catch the building unawares and lock it into a single shape.

“Trick of the eye,” said Loki, now staring at the pub sign. Beneath the name was a gilt painting of a clock with a cracked face, though its painted hands were still neatly marking the time. “The magic of the pub extends just to its doors, so the outside can only do its best to keep up.”

“I am almost certain – not completely, but _almost_ – that that doesn’t make any sense.” Thor began massaging his temple as if warding off a headache, then did a double-take as Loki pulled out the fob watch. “Where did you get that?”

“Hmm? Oh, at the jewelry shop. Do you like it?” Loki proffered the watch for a moment towards Thor. On its cover, the tiny golden snake opened its mouth and gave a silent hiss.

Thor’s good eye was nearly popping out of his head. “You stole that??”

“From a _slave-owner,_ yes.” Loki raised an eyebrow, and was undeniably gratified at the sheepish look his brother cast his way. “Didn’t see why I shouldn’t get a souvenir, too.”

“It’s very nice,” said Thor, and Loki gave him extra points for the comment coming out in an only slightly strangled tone of voice.

“I quite like it,” said Loki, and he reached out a hand to give the miniature snake a careful scratch to the head. The snake uncurled itself as he did, and the front of the watch opened, allowing Loki to turn the knob and match the watch’s hands to the pub sign.

“Is this your way of telling them we accept that it’s always the same time inside?” asked Thor.

“Good guess, but doubtful. After all, it’s _no_ time inside.” Loki wrapped the watch chain around his hand. “I’m hoping this is our way of telling them we’re paying attention.”

He placed his hand with the watch to the door – 

– and just like that, they were both inside. 

It was, in most ways, like any other pub. The dark wood and brass tables lay scattershot across the large, open room. A black stone bar counter stood to one side; a fire burned in the corner fireplace. Patrons sat at tables, servers delivered drinks, a singer crooned an unsettlingly melancholic song to those few that seemed to heed him. The difference was something intangible, a feeling of imbalance and disconnect, as if they had come unmoored from something. Which, of course, they had.

Well. There was also the fact that the fire was shining motionless in its grate, the singer seemed to be performing the song backwards, and the bartender was pouring a drink into a glass that was refusing to fill.

“That … doesn’t seem right,” said Thor out of the corner of his mouth, staring at the bartender, as Loki tucked his pocket watch away. Thor’s attention was suddenly caught by a nearby server, who was stretching her hand out towards a splattered drink on the floor. Broken shards rolled and knitted themselves together as the liquid flowed back into the self-repairing glass. Then the glass righted itself and arced back up to the server’s waiting hand. She set it on the table for the patron with a smile.

Thor’s mouth opened and closed several times before he could get the words started. “Was she cleaning that up? When did it actually get dropped? ... Okay, it got fixed by going _backwards_ in time, right? But that means that no one actually dropped it yet. Is it going to get dropped _later? And,_ if it _does_ get dropped later, how are they going to clean it up _then,_ if just _now,_ they already –”

Loki grasped onto Thor’s shoulders and began to steer him away. “Don’t do that. Don’t – no. You’ll drive yourself mad.”

Thor dragged his gaze away from the server, shaking his head as if to clear it. He had the same look he’d had when they’d been children and taken their first ship ride through a wormhole. “I don’t feel well.”

“It would be a bad sign if you did.” Loki scanned the room for a free table. “Let’s have a seat, shall we?” 

They began to weave their way through the crowded pub. Loki expected they would be studied or glared at by every set of eyes they passed – the Broken Clock was not an establishment much frequented by tourists – but the crowd hardly gave them a second glance. 

By unspoken agreement, the brothers headed for the rear of the pub, choosing a table against the wall that allowed them to both sit where they could each keep an eye on the room at large. A being the size and approximate shape of the Destroyer lurched up to their table, holding a tray with two drinks.

“Hello,” said Thor, smiling weakly. The alien server grunted in reply, then begin setting down the drinks in front of them. Thor blinked. “Er – thank you, but we didn’t order anything yet.” 

“Romulan ale and a Cardassian sunrise,” rumbled the server. Their voice put Loki strongly in mind of the sound the _Statesman_ engines had made after poor Miek had sideswiped the ship into the gravitational edge of a planetary nebula. “I took the liberty. It’s what you ordered last time.”

Thor blinked at him owlishly, no mean feat to manage with one eye. “It’s our first time here.”

“Yes, but it’s the second time ye’ve come.”

“… okay,” said Thor hollowly, before burying his face in his hands. Loki gave the server his best winning smile.

“Please excuse my brother; he’s recovering from a series of shocks. My compliments for such excellent service.” He took his glass and raised it in a sort of toast; the server gave a jerky nod in return and rumbled away. Loki allowed himself a long drink before turning back to his brother. “You still all right over there?”

“Nothing here makes any _sense,_ ” said Thor through his hands. “It’s Sakaar all over again.”

“Right!” said Loki cheerfully. “So it’s all old hat for you. You’ll be fine. Just don’t think about it.”

“Aces.” Thor sighed, then wiped his hands over his face and seemed to rally himself slightly. “Please tell me there’s at least a good reason as to why you dragged us here.”

In answer, Loki raised a hand. Green light flared at his fingertips, and a leather-bound book materialized into his palm. Thor craned his neck to read the title. 

“ _For the Traveling Magician: A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Talismans, Charms, and Magical Artifacts of the Galaxies._ ” He raised an eyebrow at Loki. “Did you, er, borrow that from the jewelry shop, too?”

“Actually, no. This comes from my tragically decimated personal collection.” Loki was flipping through pages as he spoke. “I’ve read it before, of course, but I picked it back up when you said we were coming to Nonesuch. There’s a whole chapter devoted to mystical artifacts that are known or rumored to be found on this planet.”

Thor gave a nod. “Sounds about right. Magical capital of the galaxies and all that; I’m sure they have loads of mystical toys and trinkets.” He picked up his mug and made to take a swig, then frowned. “This is empty.”

“You drank it already,” said Loki absently, flipping through the pages.

“No, I did not,” said Thor through gritted teeth. “I just got it.” 

“Yes, but you got it after you drank it.” 

“ _That doesn’t make any sense._ ”

Loki laid down the book and pushed it over to Thor’s side of the table. “Look, here it is, in the chapter on magical artifacts of Nonesuch. There’s an entry on the Rune.”

Sighing mightily, Thor picked up the book and began to read. “‘The Rune of Ord is so named for its Constructor, Ord, one of the immortal Elders of the universe. Ord Zyonz, also known as the Gardener, was known, in part, for his powers over Time, and was a brief resident of Nonesuch during the forty-first century. Before it was lost to time, the Rune was said to channel the powers of Ord, giving the user the ability to manipulate the past. The Rune’s powers to foresee or influence the future are unknown and fiercely debated.’” Thor set the book down and regarded him. “Interesting, but how exactly does this help us find the Rune?”

“I think the key is in this line.” Loki turned the book back and tapped the section in question. “ _Before it was lost to time._ I don’t think the Rune was lost _to_ time; I think it was lost _in_ time. I think it’s still in Nonesuch for the finding – only it’s not a question of knowing where to look, but _when._ ”

“You think it’s hidden somewhere – some _when_ – in some moment in history,” said Thor slowly. “Trapped in a, what – a time loop of the past?”

“Precisely. And that means that the only way to retrieve it is to travel back to that moment in time when it’s hidden.” Loki snapped shut _For the Traveling Magician,_ returning it to its pocket dimension with a wave of his hand. “Figuring that out was merely a question of reading between the lines; magic so often is, really.”

His brother appeared to mull this over. “If I followed the conversation correctly,” he said at last, “once we have the Rune – you promised to hand it over to the Mayor.”

“That is what I said, yes,” Loki agreed. 

Thor regarded him steadily. “You are going to give that madwoman a device that will allow her to alter the course of the past? Just to save our skins?”

“That is … what I _said_ to her.”

Thor eyed him a moment longer. “Just checking, Brother,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He picked up his mug, only to lower it again with a sigh; it was apparently still empty. “So, what’re we doing here?” 

“We’re here,” said Loki, “Because if we want to travel to a moment in time, we’re going to need a time traveler. And, honestly, I can’t think of very many better places to look for one.”

Thor turned to scan the pub’s patrons. “Good point, but – what’re we going to do? Just start going from table to table?”

Loki shook his head, then leaned forward. “I am looking for a _specific_ time traveler, whom I happen to know.”

“An old acquaintance from your universe-hopping youth?” Thor grinned.

“No,” said Loki awkwardly. “She’s someone who … I met her when I … I know her from the year before New York.”

“… Oh.” Thor’s voice was soft. He hesitated before asking the question. “If you knew her then, does she … is she _nice?_ ”

“Heavens, no!” Loki gave a little laugh. “Not in the slightest. She won’t expect me to be, either – so we’ll rather need to go with that.”

Thor rubbed a hand over his face. “And you want to ask this person for help?”

“Do _you_ know any other specific time travelers?”

Thor wiped a hand over his face again. “Fine, fine, fine. But – are you sure she ever frequents this pub? And, if she does, how do you know she’ll be stopping by anytime soon?”

“There’s no time here, Brother. Which means that everything happens here at the _same_ time.” Loki picked up his glass, sipping elegantly. “We have only to wait.”

“Tricky to wait when you’re on a deadline.” Thor raised his wrist, studying his restraint. “Are we losing time while we’re hanging out here?”

Loki felt his hand tighten almost imperceptibly on his glass. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What?” Thor blinked. “Why not?”

“Because,” said Loki, staring over his glass. “She’s here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am playing fast and loose with Marvel comics mythology here -- bending it entirely to my own purposes -- so my apologies to any purists. And, yes: those are Star Trek drinks Thor and Loki ordered. It's not my first nod to Trek aliens in these fics, and I doubt it'll be the last. ;-D


	7. Old Friends

Thor grew rigid. “Where?” he asked quietly. “Where is she?”

Loki was still holding his glass half-raised to his lips. He wasn’t exactly hiding; it was more of a case of allowing himself a moment to build his nerve. “She’s at the bar.”

The bar was over Thor’s shoulder. Thor settled back in his seat, then gave a casual glance across the room. A number of patrons sat there – a short, square alien with a face that appeared to be on fire; a wispy creature whose smoke-formed limbs undulated gently into the air; a pair of pirate-types whose clothes could not be seen under the solid array of weapons covering them; a being who appeared to be comprised entirely of glass. And, at the furthest end of the bar, there sat – 

“You didn’t mention she was an artificial life form, Brother,” Thor murmured. Loki shook his head almost imperceptibly. 

“A technically accurate, though still somewhat rude, choice of term.” Loki was twisting his glass in his hands. “‘Artificial’ implies a certain degree of falseness. ‘Engineered’ is more accurate – and more polite.”

“Didn’t realize. Thank you.” Thor was still watching her, though to his credit, he was managing it without seeming to stare. “I don’t want to be rude.”

“I know you don’t in general. But it’s worth noting that you _especially_ do not want to be rude to this person.” Loki hesitated, looking at his glass, then set it down on the table without taking a drink. He pushed back from the table and rose to his feet, Thor making to follow him. “Don’t. She doesn’t know you, and that’s rarely a good beginning with her. I’ll talk to her first, then bring her over. Just follow my lead.”

Thor nodded, settling back into his seat. “I’ll be here.” He smiled then – still serious, but with no hint of anxiety or fear. Their lives were on a countdown, but the look in Thor’s good eye was one of complete and utter faith. Loki had said he’d get them out of this; so it would be. 

Loki meant to live up to that. 

“Time for a little chaos, then,” he murmured. He cast a quick glamor over the binding on his wrist, hiding it from sight, and then made his way towards the bar. 

Wrex’s back was to him when he approached, both her “hands” flat on the counter as she leaned forward towards the bartender. 

“… don’t care for that tone,” she was snapping, as Loki stood trimly behind her. “You’ve never had a problem with me settling my tab before, have you?”

The bartender was flinching back from her just slightly, though he appeared to be doing his level best to look unaffected. “Yeah, I _know,_ Wrex, but – you _are_ gonna leave me hanging the next time you come in. I’m just trying to get a jump on things.”

“Listen, you insufferable little sport –” she began with a snarl.

“Allow me.” Loki sidled up beside her and slid a palmful of coins across the counter. The joints of Wrex’s mechanical spine stiffened, though so smooth was the motion it put Loki in mind of a snake. Well. Not a nice snake. 

“A nanite cocktail comin’ right up then,” said the bartender, scooping up the coins and dropping them into a pocket of his apron before grabbing a glass from above the bar. Wrex remained frozen for a long moment, then slowly spun around on the stool to regard him. Loki made sure not to flinch.

Standing face-to-face with Wrex was admittedly disconcerting, because her creators – mechanical beings themselves – had not been concentrating on making a humanoid android. The “face” she turned towards Loki was really not a face at all, but a smooth metallic ellipsoid, the surface of which was utterly blank. Operating as she did in a universe overwhelmingly populated by bipedal organisms, her designers had given her approximations of arms and legs – but the limbs were too long and thin, and folded in places they shouldn’t. She was made of a metal so brightly silver it was almost white.

Now she curved forward, the smooth flat surface of her metallic face coming within inches of his own. “Stars and hellfire, it’s really you.” The face tilted slightly, as if regarding him from a new angle, before pulling back. “Loki of Asgard. The Fallen Prince. What are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, affecting unconcern. “I might ask you the same question.”

“No, no, no. I’m a traveler. I’m here because this is a place for travelers. You had other plans. Or so you told the Mad Titan.” She pulled up one too-long arm and pointed at him with the clawed apparatus that was her hand. “The last time I saw you, he’d handed you the keys to a kingdom.”

“A backwater kingdom, unworthy of my attention.” He gave a dismissive wave. “I lost my interest in it.”

“You don’t lie very well.” 

“I,” said Loki, legitimately insulted, “Am an _exceptional_ liar.”

“Not to a time traveler. I know how it turned out for you.” She jabbed a claw at him. “You failed, Asgardian. On the run now from him, I expect. Aren’t you?”

Loki gave a little laugh. “A failure, am I? Well, failure is relative. Perhaps I achieved exactly what I intended to.” He raised an eyebrow. “And if you’re such a success, what’re you doing here?” 

“Oh, I didn’t fail. I quit.” The bartender deposited a glass on the counter, and Wrex’s arm bent behind her at an unnatural angle, her silver phalanges wrapping around the glass and pulling it towards her. The flat metallic plane of her face suddenly fell into itself, the sides collapsing in a kind of pixelated cascade. The glass was filled with what appeared to be metallic powder, and she tilted half the contents into the opening before he could do more than blink. A sound very much like a sigh seemed to emanate from her, and then her face was knitting itself back together. “Oh, that hits the spot.”

He was staring at her, for reasons entirely unrelated to her drinking. “You _quit?_ ”

“He shifted the job duties.” She rocked back and forth slightly on the stool. “I didn’t care for the new ones. What of it?”

Loki gave an incredulous little laugh. “No one leaves his employ and lives to tell about it.”

“You’d think! And yet it’s hard to sneak up on a time traveler.” She took another draught from the glass, then wiped a claw across the flat plane of her face. Tiny bits of nanites clung to the back of her hand. 

“I see. So this is all part of your plan.” He gestured at where she sat. “To hide in the shadows and bar-hop, is that it?”

“Don’t act superior. You’re here too.” Her long thin arm reaching behind her to slam the glass back down. “What the hell do you want, anyway?”

“What makes you think I want anything? Perhaps I was just curious.” His smile was mockingly cruel. “You can flail and posture all you like for the locals, but I know you from before. I know what you once were. The troops you commanded, the forces of time and space lying at your mechanical feet. And now?” He stepped closer to her, eyes glittering in his face. “Now you’re sitting at a backwater dive on a hellscape of a planet, cringing in fear and begging for handouts. You’ve fallen a long way, my friend.”

He braced himself, for a strike or perhaps even a blade, knowing he’d have to endure it. She thought him cruel, and cowardly; she thought him a fallen servant of the Mad Titan, still trying to win his way back into good graces. So he’d bait her, taunt her, play his part, then allow her to take the upper hand. Let her think him desperate, so that she could grant him this favor as a way to lord her power over him, because there was no way he could simply ask for help, could simply – 

She propped the joint of her elongated arm on top of the bar and leaned her head against her clawed hand. “Cut the crap, Asgardian.”

He blinked, faltering slightly. “I – beg your pardon?”

“You can’t fool a traveler. Not one who’s been around and paid attention. I’ve seen you out there, since the time we met. You’re not who you once were.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “We’ve both left his employ, so you’ve decided this means – what. That I’ve had a change of heart?”

Wrex raised her glass to her face, downing another swig of nanites. She waited until her face had reformed to answer him. “I know what happened to Asgard.”

Loki felt his spine stiffen. They hadn’t gone out of their way to hide the fate of their planet throughout their journey, but Nonesuch was not exactly the place he wanted to make the grand announcement to. “If it’s all the same to you –”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t gone spreading the news around.” She waved a clawed appendage in apparent unconcern. “You know it’s not my style to share.” 

He hesitated, considering the next words carefully. “So you know of Asgard. I fail to see what that has to do with –”

“You brought it about. The end of your world. At the request of your king – your brother. Saved your people in the process. ‘Savior of Asgard’ – isn’t that what they call you?” She raised her glass towards the bartender, who nodded and went off to fetch her another round. “You’ve joined the side of the heroes, Asgardian.”

Loki couldn’t hold her gaze. She made a sound that seemed suspiciously like a mechanical snort, then tipped her glass up to her face to down the last swigs of nanites. 

“Glad we’re through with the deceit.” The mechanical pitch of her voice was shifting, something melancholy seeping into its tones. “It doesn’t suit you, you know. Lying about what you are.”

“And … what am I?” Loki asked cautiously. 

“ _More._ ” Wrex shook her head, and Loki would’ve sworn her saw her shoulders droop slightly. “I was content to run from what the Mad Titan made me into. Not you! You had to go and _change._ ”

She spun the stool away from him, facing the bar once more, slumping in an oddly dejected fashion. Loki blinked, trying to process this most unexpected development – and then, after a moment of consideration, slid carefully into the seat beside her.

“Look,” he began, hesitantly. “I don’t know exactly what’s happened to you since the last time we met, but I –”

“He promised me,” she said in a low voice, not looking at him. “He promised me that, if I worked for him, I’d be helping to bring about equality for all life forms. Mechanical and biological, equal at last. _Everyone,_ equal at last. Then I took a trip forward and saw his methods in action. And _then_ –” She jabbed a finger into the air. “I got a good look at what he’s actually trying to achieve.”

“And that is?” 

“Equality through annihilation. I may be a heartless harpy, but even I didn’t want that.” Her face was lowered; she seemed to be staring into the contents of the glass between her hands. “Random genocide is genocide all the same.” 

Loki felt an unexpected surge of sympathy, followed by something that felt suspiciously like conscience. “I haven’t seen you since … since we were both in his employ. That’s how you knew me, as – as one of his own. It only made sense …”

“To lie to me? I’ll be honest: I can’t say I blame you. Would’ve saved you time, if I’d thought you were still what you were.” Wrex set her glass aside, then turned to face him. “And you don’t have a lot of time to spare, do you?”

“What’re you –” he began, then flinched as her clawed fingers flared out and grasped him by the wrist.

“Can’t hide a time-device from me, I’m afraid.” She squeezed his arm, somewhat gently. “Show me.”

There was a shimmer around Loki’s wrist, and then the undulating black restraint appeared in stark relief. Wrex made a noise like steam escaping a teapot; it was, Loki realized after a startled moment, her attempt at a whistle.

“Run-in with the Mayor, I take it? Can’t say I’m a fan of hers.”

No time like the present. Loki took a breath. “I don’t suppose that this, by chance, means you’d like to help me?”

Wrex raised and lowered the tops of her upper appendages. It didn’t much look like a shrug. “That depends on what it is you want. And what you’re willing to pay, of course. I am a bit strapped for cash.”

Loki hesitated. “We … need a ride.”

She lowered her head slightly. “‘We’?”

“My brother and I.”

Wrex’s face was still; she seemed to be regarding him. The bartender came by with a fresh glass, and she took it in one appendage, though her face remained motionless. “For the right price? We can maybe make this happen. I’ll give you a discount as a fellow escapee of the Mad Titan.” Her face funneled just slightly, and she took what appeared to be a dainty sip from the side of her glass. “When to?” 

“I’ll warn you, it is a bit of a significant jump. A few millennia, at least. I don’t know if we’d be able to manage it in one go –”

“Stars, you like to dance around an issue, don’t you?” Her drumming fingers against the side of her glass made a sound that was almost musical. “How far ahead?”

He braced himself again. “It’s … not ahead.”

There was a sound like rusted hinges being creaked open and shut. It took Loki a moment to realize Wrex was laughing.

“You ought to know better than that.” She started to turn away from him, and before he could think better of it, he reached out and grasped her upper arm.

“Now, hold on a moment –”

She slammed her glass down, spilling nanites across the counter, and jabbed a pointed finger into his chest; it hurt. “I wouldn’t do it for him and I won’t do it for you. I won’t do it for _anyone._ Inexperienced travelers roaming around in what’s already occurred? Uh-uh. Doesn’t end well. You three-dimensional beings who only move through time in one direction just don’t know what you’re _doing._ You can’t handle it. You’ll have the whole space-time continuum down around our ears.”

“It’s not like that.” He was trying very hard to keep from sounding slightly desperate.

You’ve got a lot of nerve even asking.” Her voice was hard. Bitter. “And here I was, thinking the times had changed and you along with them.”

“It’s not the past!” he said sharply. She paused, apparently eying him – or some such equivalent – and he pressed the advantage of her sudden silence. “All right, it _is,_ but it’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s a time loop we’re going to, safely contained within a definitive physical space. We don’t want to go to the past; we want to go to a closed moment in time. It just happens to _be_ in the past. Surely that doesn’t break your rules?”

Wrex was silent for a long moment. “Why then? What’s so important?”

Loki waved a hand. “That’s not really pertinent to what I’m –”

“You want me to do this for you, you tell me.” Her face leaned towards him. “The truth.”

He hesitated only a fraction of a moment, then sighed. “I promised the Mayor … something. Something that’s locked in a moment in time.”

She considered this. “An exchange, then? To get that thing off your wrist?”

“It was the only way.” Loki grimaced. “I’d prefer not to be in her debt, believe me.”

“And, if I don’t help you?”

“We die,” said Loki. “My brother and I, we die. In two days. Less than that now, really.” As if to prove his point, the burn against his wrist flared slightly; another hour down, in all likelihood. 

She went silent again. He readied himself, trying to mentally line up arguments, and was therefore completely unprepared when at last she spoke. “All right, Asgardian. I’ll take you to your time loop.”

“… Thank you,” he said cautiously. 

“But you’re going to owe me one.” 

There it was. “Ah. Of course. I expected no less, of course; it’s just that you must understand I’m rather low on funds at the moment. In fact, I believe I spent the last of my available pocket change on your drink. Might I suggest –”

“I didn’t say I wanted some _thing_ from you.” She hesitated, hunching somewhat awkwardly. “I want … information.”

“What could I possibly –” he began.

“Do we have a deal? Or not?” She held out her mechanical hand, the mismatched fingers hooking towards him like claws.

He grasped her hand in his own and shook it, trying not to feel like he was giving more away than he could. “Deal.”

They approached Thor’s table, his brother watching them with a grim expression. “Well?” he growled.

Loki sighed, waving a hand. “Nice try, but forget it. She knows I’ve gone soft.”

Thor’s face broke into a smile. “Losing your touch, Brother?”

“She _cheats._ Hard to fool someone who can see into your future.” Loki glared at them both, then remembered his manners. “Forgive me – Brother, this is Wrex. Wrex, Thor.”

“A pleasure, Your Majesty,” drawled Wrex, spinning her wrist in a kind of salute. Thor winced.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Eh, you’re a better king than most I’ve encountered.” Wrex folded her too-long arms across and around her chest. “Now, are we getting a move-on or what? I thought your brother said something about you two being on a deadline.”

“Right,” said Thor hastily, coming to his feet. He picked up his mug, knocked back the contents in one go, and set the mug down with a satisfied look on his face. Then he blanched. 

“Wait, when did it fill up?? It’s been empty since I got it! Unless –” Thor’s voice went hollow. “Unless – unless I really did drink it before I got it.”

“Told you,” said Loki serenely, and held back a grin as Thor stuttered incoherently all the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the first Task.


	8. Down the Rabbit Hole

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Thor announced. He was standing with his hands on his knees, hunched over a blue-leafed bush. Loki fervently hoped that Thor wasn’t looking at said bush too closely. “Is it bad that I’m going to throw up?”

“It’s perfectly normal,” said Loki soothingly, patting Thor’s shoulder. Behind them both, Wrex was standing with her arms unnaturally crossed, one “foot” resting on its rim, her back leaning against the edge of her ship. She was giving off the picture of eye-rolling impatience, which Loki found impressively committed on her part given that she had no eyes to roll. 

“Normal?” Thor managed. He was very clearly fighting down a thick wave of nausea, and Loki cautiously removed his hand from his brother’s shoulder. “Then why aren’t you sick?”

Loki waved a hand. “I was driving. The driver never gets seasick.”

“ _I_ was driving,” said Wrex.

“Well, I was the one steering, then.” It was true. Only Wrex – and her ship – had the capability to get them to where ( _when_ ) they wanted to go; but they’d had a hundred years from which to choose. _The forty-first century,_ the book had said; that’s when Ord had briefly lived on Nonesuch. But none of Loki’s research had been able to pinpoint exactly when within that century that may’ve been. Which meant that it had been up to Loki himself to reach out with his magic and _feel_ the moment – the very second – to which the time loop was tied.

So as Wrex had brought them about over the right eddy in time, Loki had reached with thin tendrils of magic, feeling, studying, testing, _searching._ Until the moment he’d found, well, the _Moment,_ and hooked the edge of a spell into the right instant to guide the ship in.

Well, actually, to a few moments before. 

“You better hurry,” Wrex was saying, as Thor continued to dry-heave over the bush. “You have a split second to enter this guy’s loop at just the right moment. If you miss it – well, I’m not taking you back in time for another chance. Redoing the past? Meeting yourself? Definitely not the sort of task a bunch of second-rate third-dimensioners ought to be taking on.”

Thor glared at Loki but either knew better than to protest in front of their associate, or was too busy gagging to manage a reply. Loki smiled serenely at Wrex. 

“We’ll make it, I assure you. Now – don’t you have something to do until it’s time to come pick us back up?”

“No,” said Wrex. “It’s a closed loop of time, contained in a nanosecond. From my perspective, if you two don’t come in and then come right back out again, I’ll know you’re lost to time forever.”

“Super,” said Thor hollowly. Then he jolted. “Loki. The flowers on this bush. Are they … _spinning?_ ”

“They’re hypercube blossoms,” said Loki, feeling legitimately sympathetic. “They aren’t exactly spinning, they’re just … er. Existing in the fourth dimension.” He tried to add hastily, “If I were you, I wouldn’t –”

He paused as Thor lost the battle and proceeded to retch rather violently all over the flowers in question. He waited until Thor had managed to quiet back down to a dull gagging noise before finishing. “ – I wouldn’t look directly at them. Won’t help the time sickness.”

“I don’t think much is gonna help the time sickness.” Thor wiped a hand across his mouth, then shakily straightened up from the bush, his gaze landing on Wrex’s ship. From this angle and this moment, all that was visible to them was a single line of shimmering silver, the edge of the fourth-dimensional ship peeking out into the third. Then the line began to bend on its itself to expand – 

“Stop _looking_ at it,” said Loki, spinning Thor away. Thor made a tiny noise of discomfort. “Ah. Apologies, Brother.” Loki looked at Wrex. “Don’t change your mind about waiting for us.”

“Oh, no need to worry about that.” She gave him a little salute. “Be careful in there.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Why, Wrex! I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t. But you and I have a deal, Asgardian.” She cocked her head the other way, as if arching an eyebrow in return. “No dying before holding up your end of our bargain.”

“What bargain?” murmured Thor.

“Later,” Loki whispered back, before raising his voice. “We’ll be back in a moment.”

“Yeah,” he heard Wrex say, as he and Thor made their way down the cobblestone path. “I hope so.”

The cobblestones led from the street to an archway entrance that stood a short distance across a grassy field. A black metal fence, twice as tall as either of them, ran the length of the field from either side of the archway, though there did not appear to be anything but more field on the fence’s other side. They were well outside the boundaries of the Marketplace, which might’ve explained the lack of people. For that matter, missing too were any signs of civilization: no houses, no buildings, no workshops, no farms. This place seemed simply deserted. 

Of course, the other possibility was that everyone else in this day and age knew better than to mess with an Elder.

The sun was hovering over the horizon, and the high metal archway cast thin shadows that seemed to reach out to meet them as they approached the gate. Loki drew up just before they reached the arch, Thor stopping beside him. They studied the golden plaque that was inlaid into the side of the archway. 

_IN TIME,_ was all it read.

“How on point,” Loki mumbled.

Thor turned his head to regard him. He had to swallow thickly before he could get the word out. “What?”

“Just thinking aloud.” Loki hesitated, glancing at Thor out of the corner of his eye. When Thor managed a full breath without looking like he was going to start retching again, Loki dared the question. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?” 

“Ask me _what?_ Oh, I don’t know. How about why I’ve come up with a plan to change the past, when our resident time-traveler has suggested our doing so might unravel the fabric of reality. Or, ask me what bargain I made with her – a bargain made against my better judgement, might I add. _Or_ –” He jabbed a finger at the sky. “How about asking me what I’m going to do when she finds out I’m after the Rune of Ord, which is almost guaranteed not to go well, by the way. Although,” he added, almost to himself, “It’s doubtful she doesn’t know what’s on the other side of this archway already. Which means …”

“The only thing I’m going to ask you,” Thor interrupted, pointing at the archway, “is if you should be getting ready.”

“For what?” said Loki, perplexed, and then jolted rather sheepishly. “Oh. Ah, yes. Good point.” 

He raised a hand, then took a breath. Green light threaded through his fingers, and he reached out towards the empty air beneath the archway, letting the homing spell refocus in his mind’s eye. A faint pulsing began to pull at his fingertips, wrapping the spell tighter around his palm.

“We have one shot to get this right,” said Loki, feeling a thrill move through his chest. “A single, literal moment.”

“Say the word, Brother.” Thor squared his shoulders, looking resolutely through the archway.

The pulsing was beginning to intensify, the force of it pulling at his hands. For the moment, his focus was so utterly on the spell that it was overpowering even the stinging burn of Mage Lorca’s restraint on his wrist, and some unconscious corner of his mind enjoyed the reprieve. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw the thin line of Wrex’s form, still standing and waiting by the glimmer of her silver ship. 

It wasn’t quite the cavalry, but it was good to be reminded they had a trip home.

_Home._ For a split instant, the thought distracted him. _You always find your way home –_

“ _Loki! _” Thor cried, lightning rippling across the hands clenched at his sides – and Loki felt the spell hook around his hand, _pulling,_ dragging him forward, and he just had time to grab Thor by the wrist, and then – __

____

* * * * *

“Where are we?” Thor’s voice was awed.

Loki wanted to sound nonchalant, but he couldn’t keep the wonder out of his own voice. “Well.” He cleared his throat, trying to get a grip on himself. “The book did mention that Ord was a gardener, did it not?”

They were standing on the other side of the archway, in what, moments ago, had been an empty field. Now every square inch of space seemed packed to the brim with overflowing flowerbeds, ornamental grasses and shrubs, cascades of ivy, miniature trees, and plants with leaves of every size, shape, and color imaginable. To their left stood a forest of waist-high trees, with flowering buds so small that individual pedals could not quite be made out; on their right, a rainbow assortment of blossoms wove through green groundcover in a spiral-shape that seemed to draw the eye and the mind towards it center. Beneath their feet, the gray cobblestones had vanished; in their place was a gently rolling cloud of blue mist that threaded its way through the garden. Tiny bursts of electricity illuminated the fog-shrouded path from within.

“And what about _that?_ ” asked Thor, pointing ahead of them.

In the center of the garden, dominating the space despite there being so much else to see, stood a clock tower perhaps fifty feet high. The tower itself was made of polished metal, shining with a dull golden glow in the light of an unseen sun. The clock face itself was midnight-dark, its bone-white hands standing at attention to mark the time. 

“The clock.” Thor made a noise that was probably supposed to be a chuckle. “Shouldn’t it be, I don’t know … ticking?”

“We are in the space between the ticks. Don’t think about it.” The advice was more for himself than for his brother, and Loki couldn’t hold back a slight grimace. Being outside of time was one thing, but this was something else. They were in a frozen moment of time – unchanging, stagnate. Hell of a place for an Agent of Chaos to find oneself. “No going off the path, by the way. I think that would end poorly.”

They began their way across the garden, Loki feeling increasingly uneasy. And yet there was a peacefulness here, a stillness that seemed to wrap around the mind and heart and soul, soothing away the chaos and quieting any inner dissatisfaction.

Loki hated it.

“So who was this guy? This Ord? No, scratch that; that’s not quite what I’m asking.” Thor was staring down at the path, hand hovering over the tiny electrical bursts shooting through the mists at their feet. “Why hide the Rune like this? Why trap it in a single moment?”

Loki cleared his throat, which was feeling tight. “To make it hard to find, of course.”

“That’s not what I mean. He had a Rune that allows a person to alter the past, and he hid it _in_ the past. Wouldn’t that mean you’d have to be a time traveler to get to it?”

“Or know one.” Loki glanced at an overflowing flower bed, the glasslike petals wrapping around themselves to form bell-like shapes.

“Yes,” said Thor patiently, “But what I mean is, why would somebody who can already travel into the past go to all this trouble just to acquire a device that lets you travel into the past? Isn’t that rather a lot of work to go to for no reason?”

“Maybe that’s the point.” Loki’s hands were beginning to twist around themselves. The cuff on his arm was burning, and he flexed his wrist against it, trying to calm. “Maybe Ord wanted to guarantee it wouldn’t be found. Time travel is a relatively rare skillset, as it so happens; those individuals and species that do possess the power often share Wrex’s belief that the past is best left unmeddled with – at least by those who don’t understand the rules of it.”

“So then why hide this Rune at all? Why not just destroy it?” Thor waved a hand around the garden. “Why all … _this?_ Seems like a lot of trouble to go to if you want to make certain nobody ever finds what you’ve hidden.”

“Perhaps it’s not so easy to destroy.” Loki took a deep breath that still did not seem to gather quite enough air into his lungs. “The other possibility is that there is, ah … more to the Rune than what it appears to be. Maybe …”

He trailed off as if he needed a moment to think. What he needed was a moment to breathe. He knew perfectly well what was happening, even knew why, but it had been so long since an attack that he was out of practice gliding over the surface of it. Instead, he could feel the panic hooking into his chest, or maybe wrapping itself around his ribs, constricting his heart, squeezing the breath out of him …

“ _Loki,_ ” said Thor, and from his tone, Loki knew it was not the first time his brother had called his name. Loki realized he’d stopped walking, and Thor had drawn up beside him, watching him. “You okay?”

“Yes,” said Loki, one hand worrying at the other. “Essentially.” He tried to give a little laugh, but his breathing was shallow and he ended up nearly choking instead. 

Thor placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “There’s a bench just to the side. Let’s sit down and –”

“It’s off the path. We can’t.” 

“No, it’s not. The path leads right up to it.” Thor tugged at his shoulder. “C’mon.”

Loki allowed himself to be led to a brightly painted red bench, the metal slats casting faint shadows against the blue mist roiling underneath it. He sat rigidly, almost gingerly, feeling as if he were on the verge of crawling out of his own skin.

His brother sat beside him, looking out for a moment at the sun-drenched garden surrounding them. “Anything I can do to help?”

Loki kneaded a hand into his side, beneath his rib cage. “I’m fine – well. I mean that ... nothing’s actually wrong. I just ...” He couldn’t stop a slight shutter. “I hate it here.”

For a moment, Thor looked surprised, but then Loki could see the comprehension dawning on his face. “I suppose frozen and unchanging Time is not really your thing.”

“No.” Loki tried for another deep breath, feeling the pressure across his chest tighten. “Didn’t really think this through, did I?”

“Thinking things through? That would hardly be the brother I know.” Thor was grinning, but Loki could see the sympathy laced into his smile. 

“I’m all right,” said Loki, mostly for his own benefit. “I just … need a minute.”

“Take your time.” Thor kept his hand against the back of Loki’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, and Loki could feel the motion grounding him slightly, along with the words. “You’re all right, Brother. Maybe the Time around us won’t change here – but _we_ can. And we are. You’re all right.”

_I’m all right,_ Loki reminded himself. _I’m not alone this time; this is nothing like the Void. We are still ourselves here. I am still_ myself.

And it was true, wasn’t it? The static monotony around them could not touch them, not really. Not when they’d come to be the very Agents of Change. Was Loki not the god of Mischief? The Lord of Misrule? Chaos traveled in his wake. Time here might be unchanging, but Loki was not. Never that.

_I am myself._

Loki took another breath, and for the first time, there seemed to be enough air. “Right,” he said, and flashed Thor a quick grin of thanks. “All right. Let’s get going.”

* * * * *

The garden did not end. Only the path.

They stood at the end of the lane, still surrounded by flowering bushes and cascading leaves, studying what the path had brought them to.

Three identical doors, sitting in the garden one beside the other.

Well, not quite identical. Each bore a different symbol in the middle of the dark wood: one, a clock face; another, a silhouette of a bird; the last, a skull. Everything else remained the same, from the brass doorknobs to – Loki realized, as he crouched down in front of the third door – the grain in each wood panel. Each one stood alone, looking weirdly and uncomfortably out of place, without building or wall to hold them up. 

“Is this the test?” Thor tried to peer around the back of the nearest door without actually leaving the path. “Choosing the right one?”

“Of a sort.” Loki’s hand glowed with faint green light as he traced his fingertips over the carving of the skull, admiring the detail. “I suspect it won’t quite be that simple. There will, more than likely, be something waiting for us behind the door – other than the Rune, I mean.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that.” Thor wiped a hand over his face, then bounced on the balls of his feet as if readying himself for battle. Which, Loki had to admit, was fairly accurate. “Which door do we try first?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Loki came to his feet, brushing green light briskly from his hands. “I can’t get any hint of magic from these, but of course it’s there – so it just goes to show these are effectively hiding wherever and whatever it is they lead to.”

“Hmm.” Thor ran his gaze over each in turn, stopping to stare at the grinning skull. “Well, I for one vote that we save the death one for last. Unless, of course, that’s the trick – that it’s behind the one we’d least want to open.”

Loki had his own guesses about which door would prove to be the right one, but he was hesitant to give his brother the good news this early in the game. “The clock, then?”

“We are here to find a magical object that lets us control Time. Seems logical enough.” Thor glanced at Loki, then stepped forward and reached for the knob.

“Brother,” Loki began quickly, “you might not want to be the one to –”

But it was too late, for Thor had wrapped his hand around the door knob. Instantly, white light flared beneath his fingers, and Loki just had time to reach out and grasp Thor’s wrist before the door flew open – 

– dragging Thor and Loki within.

When the light cleared, the aftereffects seemed to have burned his vision white. Loki blinked fiercely, trying to clear his eyes. Blurred shapes shifted by, and indistinct chatter swirled around him. “Brother?” he called, trying to make sense of this latest move. Had Ord’s blasted door spit them back out at the Marketplace?

And then he heard Thor’s voice, a hoarse rasp that alarmed him. “By the Allfathers –”

“What?” Loki asked, rubbing his fingertips across his eyes. “Thor, where –”

Then Loki saw, and froze, feeling twin surges of awe and an indefinable horror.

A figure jostled into him hard, and Loki rocked slightly, thrown off balance. “Please clear the way, my lads, people are trying to –” Then the woman did a double-take and blanched slightly. “Your Highness! I’m so sorry, I had no idea it was you. Either of you.” 

“That’s all right,” Loki mumbled through numb lips. “Our apologies, good madam.”

She smiled, giving a half-bow, then turned and resumed her way through the crowd. Loki turned back, taking an unconscious step closer to his brother as the two of them stared ahead.

At the unburned streets and shops and trees and dwellings and, hanging above it all, the shining golden spires and towers of the palace. Of home.

Of Asgard.


	9. Spinning Your Wheels

When, at last, Loki turned away from staring gobsmacked at the palace, his gaze fell on Thor.

“… _Oh,_ ” he said, rather dazedly. “Of course. Well, I suppose that makes sense.”

“What?” asked Thor, who was now searching the faces of the crowd. 

“You … er.” Not knowing where to start, Loki gave a feeble wave towards Thor’s face. “Well, for starters, you have both your eyes.”

“What??” Thor jolted, then reached up to pat at his restored eye. He used the other to look Loki up and down. “You’ve changed as well, you know.”

It made sense, and yet Loki still felt an uneasy thrill when he looked down and saw his leathers and armor of decades past. He reached up a hand to the back of his neck, feeling the shorter length of hair slicked back from his face, and looked back over at Thor. His brother’s hair was longer and lighter, and he was dressed in his old metal armor and that ridiculous two-shouldered red cape, with the shoulders so high it really did put one in mind of curtains. “I like to think our fashion sense has improved over the years,” Loki said at last, because his thoughts were whirling too quickly for him to catch hold of, and a jest seemed like the most sensible course to take.

“Nice to have my hair back,” mused Thor. Loki shot him a withering look. “What?”

“You’ve gotten your other _eye_ back, and it’s the hair you’re most excited about?” 

“The eye’s good too.” Thor smiled, but Loki could see the uncertainty – the fear – in his face. “Loki, is this … real?”

“I don’t know.” Loki looked around almost helplessly. “Whatever magic is controlling this, it’s far beyond my own, Brother. This could all be nothing more than a vision. A memory. Or …” He felt another thrill of fear. “We could really be standing in the past. It’s hard to say.”

“ _Might_ be standing in the past.” Thor tightened his hands into fists at his sides. “Didn’t that Wrex mention something about us unraveling the space-time continuum if we muck about in the past?”

“That mostly happens when you run into your past self,” said Loki, with far more confidence than he felt. “We seem to have actually _become_ our past selves, so that’s decidedly less of a risk.”

“We might look like our past selves, but we are most certainly still our current selves. We have all of our experiences – all of our memories.” Thor smiled in apology as someone else jostled past them. “C’mon, we’re standing in the middle of the street.”

They made their way to the edge of the crowded square, sitting on the low bench beneath a flowering white-blossomed tree. Loki sat on the edge of the bench as if it were made of glass, his spine unnaturally stiff. How many times had they sat in this very spot, to await their friends or plan their next adventure or simply to enjoy an afternoon of pleasant weather? Two minutes ago, this very bench had been so much dust and ash swirling in the vacuum of the cosmos. And now here they were, sitting in the shadow of the overhanging branches as if it had never happened. 

But it had, of course. It had happened. It _would_ happen. Loki should know; he’d been there. Had brought it about, though there was no reason to split hairs about that.

“So what are we doing here?” asked Thor, looking around at the passers-by. “Surely this Ord guy wasn’t just being nice by giving us a chance to pop on home and visit.” 

“No,” agreed Loki. “We’ve been sent here for a purpose. We’re meant to do something. Past a test. Achieve a goal.”

“Like what?”

“Damned if I know,” said Loki mildly. “I’m afraid that, as the Midgardians say, the ball is in your court. Where do we propose we start?”

“ _Me?_ ” Thor stared at him. “How in the Nine Realms should _I_ know?”

“Because you were the one that opened the door, Brother.” Loki reached up a hand, plucking one of the white blossoms from the branch overhead. He twirled it absently between his fingers. “That means this task is yours. I’m just along for the ride.”

“ _Along for the ride??_ ”

“And moral support,” Loki added hastily. He considered the flower in his hands, then twisted his wrist to conjure the blossom away in a burst of green light. Time enough later to think about that. “Now, c’mon. Look around us a bit. Any idea when we might be? What might be important about this day?”

Thor snorted. “I can’t say it looks any different from any other day that we –” His gaze shifted to something over Loki’s shoulder, and suddenly all the color drained from his face. 

Loki creased his brow. “Brother? Are you – ”

He was interrupted by a familiar laugh.

“Thor! There he is, I told you he’d be here. We’ve been waiting for you at the Spinning Wheel, you oaf; you’re half an hour late!”

Thor tried to answer, but the words seemed to be sticking in his throat. So Loki plastered a smile on his face before turned to greet the newcomers. Even knowing who he’d see, it took everything he had not to lose his nerve.

“Fandral,” Loki said, his voice almost entirely even. “Volstagg. Hogun. A pleasure to see you all.”

“Yes, you look so very pleased to see us.” Volstagg rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I’d wager it’s your fault your brother has been dallying out here when we’ve been twiddling our thumbs waiting at the pub.”

“Like you minded.” Fandral gave him a poke in the ribs with his elbow. “You drank two steins of mead before we came to find them.”

“I was thirsty.” Volstagg folded his arms over his chest, eyes glinting amusement, and looked down at them expectantly. “And I still am. We were waiting for ages. What are you doing out here?”

“M-my friends,” Thor got out, though the second word seemed almost to choke him. “I’m sorry, we didn’t – we weren’t – we must’ve lost track of … time …” Loki looked at him swiftly, but Thor had stopped again, staring up at the Warriors Three with bone-white face and hollow eyes.

Fandral, looking concerned, moved to sit beside them on the bench, Loki hastily sliding to one side to make room. “Thor, are you quite well? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, man!”

Thor sat frozen. “Ha ha,” managed Loki bleakly. Hogun and Volstagg exchanged glances, then looked once more at the brothers.

“What you look like,” said Volstagg, “is in need of a drink. Now, are you coming already, or not?”

“Coming?” Loki echoed.

“To the pub!” Volstagg reached down to clap a hand on Thor’s shoulder. Thor flinched so minutely, Loki was certain he was the only one to see it. “Get a little liquid courage before your grand audience.”

“W-what?” Thor mumbled.

“To – the – pub,” said Fandral, enunciating with deliberate exaggeration. “We are asking you if _you two_ –” he pointed at Loki and Thor, “Are now going to _come with us_ –” he wiggled two fingers to mimic walking, “To the _Spinning Wheel_.” He tried to mime spinning wool, but quickly gave it up as he apparently had no idea how it worked. “Which is a _pub_ –” he raised an imaginary glass to his lips, “As well you should know, since you’ve been there, oh, only a thousand times.”

“Maybe they’ve both had enough to drink already,” said Hogun, who was, as always, watching them all intently. Loki had a sudden, almost irrational urge to duck away from his gaze.

“Nothing of the sort. We’re just a little nervous about that, er, ‘audience.’” Loki clapped Thor on the shoulder. “Right, Brother?”

“… Right,” said Thor.

“Excellent!” Fandral clapped his hands together, springing to his feet. “Drinks it is, then. C’mon, lads. To the Spinning Wheel!”

Loki glanced at Thor out of the corner of his eye. His brother was clearly going to need a minute. “We'll be right there. I was just, er, right in the middle of a pep talk.”

“Right.” Volstagg eyed him suspiciously. “If he’s telling you confidence-booster stories, Thor – don’t believe a word of them.”

“You know me.” Loki smirked. “Always like to do what I can to build up my brother’s confidence.”

He kept the grin plastered to his face until the trio had turned and begun to make their way back down the street, laughing amongst each other once more. Then he let the smile fall away, his face growing grimly thoughtful.

“All right,” said Loki. He clasped his hands together and considered. “Well done, Brother – I know that mustn’t have been easy. But it was important, I’m sure of it. We may not know exactly when we are, but we’ve got a clue now – what Volstagg said about that ‘grand audience.’ We have to figure out what that means, and hopefully, once we have, we’ll know what it is we’re supposed to do –”

“I can’t do this.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” Loki looked at him. “How do you know you can’t do it when we haven’t found out what it is yet we’re meant to do?”

“I mean,” said Thor, jabbing a finger towards the retreating trio, “that I can’t go sit in a pub with _my dead friends_ and talk and laugh and act like everything is fine, when it most assuredly is not.”

Loki blinked at him. “I-I thought … I thought you’d be happy to see them.”

“ _Happy to see them??_ ” Thor hissed. “Loki, they’re _dead!_ ”

“But they’re not, Brother! Not here. Not yet.” He meant it to be encouraging, perhaps even heartening – but Thor’s face crumpled so utterly Loki realized it would’ve been less cruel if he’d simply hit him.

_Which isn’t fair. I wasn’t even trying._ “Thor,” he began, his tone gentler now, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve tried to warn you better. Should’ve –”

“Why?? Because you’ve traveled into the past so many times and have so much wisdom as to how it works? _Or,_ ” and Thor sat up straighter, mock-struck by a sudden idea, “Is it because you have so much experience with what it’s like to come back from the dead and flaunt yourself around the people that mourned you?”

Loki steadily met Thor’s gaze. He could feel the sadness pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t say anything. 

He couldn’t.

“… I’m sorry,” said Thor, his voice heavy. He looked away, and for a moment, within his younger face, Loki could see the weather-worn cares shining through from beneath, like something darker hidden beneath a sheen of mist. “I’m sorry, Brother. I don’t – I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“I don’t see how anyone could’ve expected this. It’s all right, Thor.” Loki reached over and gave Thor’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll figure this out. I promise you.”

“I know we will,” murmured Thor, looking out once more at the square, filled with crowds of people – _their_ people. “But I wonder.”

“Wonder what?” asked Loki, and Thor gave him a sad smile.

“What the cost will be.”

* * * * *

Loki was trying very hard not to fidget.

“So! Any idea what the grand summoning this afternoon is all about?” asked Fandral, as they sat with their drinks at their usual table. It was hard not to stare at what was so familiar, and yet somehow felt so very wrong: the rough-hewn rafters arching over their heads, the dark-stained tables squeezed into every available inch of floorspace, the fire crackling cheerfully in the large stone fireplace at the other end of the room. Loki had been staring at the large painting about the fireplace, the one that depicted a large ship on the open sea, red sails billowing in the wind and the sky overhead filled with clouds that had nonetheless parted at just the right place to cast a beam of golden sunlight upon the decks of the ship. 

He’d always loved that painting. He hadn’t expected to see it again. 

“Hmm?” asked Thor. Thor, for his part, had finally stopped staring at the Warriors Three long enough to begin staring instead at their fellow pub patrons. As most of the faces in the pub were familiar to them – and were also faces of people they had not seen since they’d left the ashes of Asgard behind – Loki found he couldn’t quite blame his brother. 

“By the Nine, Thor! I’ve never seen you like this.” Volstagg banged a fist atop the table, causing Thor and Loki both to jump. “And you’re looking nervous even for you, Loki.”

“Can you blame us?” Loki retorted, wrapping his hands around the mug of tea in front of him. He had not yet been able to bring himself to take a sip. “We’re just a bit apprehensive, is all. Lot on our minds, and all that.”

“Fair enough, but – it’s your _father._ ” Fandral raised his glass in a gesture that looked something like a shrug. “I’ll grant you, Odin can be a bit intimidating – but he’s always fair. More than fair, when it comes to the two of you.” He grinned, but Thor had now gone so pale even Fandral and Volstagg couldn’t miss it.

“Thor?” Volstagg leaned forward across the table – nearly upsetting Hogun’s glass into his lap – and clapped Thor on the shoulder. “Are you well, lad?”

“Just … thinking about … talking to Father this afternoon,” croaked Thor. He looked over at Loki, who could only stare back at him rather helplessly.

“You know, my friends, to be fair – you might be right to be nervous.” Fandral shoved his own glass out of the way and folded his arms atop the table, leaning forward to hiss in a conspiratorial whisper. “You know what I think this about?”

“What?” Loki darted a glance over at Thor.

“ _I_ think,” said Fandral, still whispering, “That he wants to talk to you about the matter of succession.” Thor and Loki continued to stare at him. “Don’t you see? He’s chosen which of you will succeed him to the throne!”

Loki blinked, surprised. This task had to be Thor’s test – but if today was the day they learned of Odin’s ultimate choice of successor, Loki would not have thought it to have been, from Thor’s perspective, a particularly memorable day. Thor had always assumed he’d be Odin’s chosen heir; Loki had harbored wild hopes that perhaps Odin would ultimately choose other than his firstborn, but while he could not deny the crushing, crippling disappointment that had overtaken him at the announcement, he also could not pretend it had come as much of a surprise.

“Perhaps –” Loki began.

“Is he right, Loki?” Thor broke in. “Is that what today is? Is that when we are?”

“I can’t say for sure,” said Loki, looking nervously at the Warriors Three, who were staring at them with identical expressions of perplexity that bordered on clear consideration as to whether or not the Odinsons had taken leave of their senses. “But we did stop at the pub that day …”

“We’ve stopped in this pub a lot of days.” Thor drummed his fingers on the side of his mug. “Suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

He pushed back from the table then, so abruptly that the table skidded slightly, sending Loki’s full mug of tea sloshing down its sides. Fandral and Volstagg were staring at him; Hogun was watching him too, though his eyes were more thoughtful. 

“My friends,” said Thor, nodding to the Warriors Three, “It has truly been an honor taking a drink with you again today. I only wish … we could stay longer.”

“It’s … all right?” said Volstagg. Then he sighed, and waved a hand. “For heaven’s sake, lad. Go. Go and talk to your father. There’ll be no getting any sense out of you until you do.”

“Come back when you’re done and tell us what happens!” cried Fandral, raising a glass in toast to them and winking. Thor smiled – a lopsided grin that contained such warmth and such sadness that Loki felt a surge of guilt go through him (though how could he have known, how could he have protected Thor from this) – then turned and walked out the door.

“He’ll need your help,” said Hogun. Loki started, and turned to see Hogun watching him with his usual measured expression. And perhaps something else, some understanding that nearly brought Loki up short. “You better go after him.”

“I will,” said Loki. “Always.” He eyed the tea, thought _what the hell,_ and gulped down half the mug in one go. He was struck by how familiar, and yet almost forgotten, he found the taste of bitter sweetness from the wildflower tea. 

It was at his insistence that they always came to the Spinning Wheel, he suddenly remembered. In the beginning, when they’d first become old enough to wander into the pubs on their own – it had been Loki who had favored the Spinning Wheel. Eventually, it became _their_ place, and how it had come to be so had no longer mattered. But it had been Loki’s idea, in the beginning.

“A pleasure, my friends,” he said to the Warriors Three, bowing slightly, and then hurried after his brother.

Thor was already half a block down the street by the time Loki walked out the front door, and he nearly had to run to catch up with him. The crowds had thinned just slightly, the sun disappearing behind the shops lining the streets as the afternoon began to wane. The cobblestones were gleaming in the slanted golden light, the air growing cooler. 

Surely it was Loki’s imagination that it all felt oddly ominous. 

“Brother,” said Loki, finding that he had to keep almost to a jog to keep up with Thor, “Forgive me for sounding suspicious, but you seem to have decided upon a course of action, and I was just wondering if you’d mind telling me what it is.”

“Of course,” said Thor, not breaking stride. “I’m going to go in there and tell Father not to name me as his heir.”

Loki stopped walking. Thor did not. After a moment, Loki gathered himself and began chasing after Thor once more.

“Care to tell me,” he said, slightly winded from both effort and surprise, “ _Why_ you are going to tell Father not to name you as his heir?”

Thor was not breaking stride, not looking over at Loki as he spoke. “Is it not obvious?”

“Oh, no doubt,” said Loki. “But let’s pretend, just for a moment, that I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We’re here as a test. _I’m_ here, as a test. That’s what you said, isn’t it?”

“Yes …” 

“Then surely that means I’m here to save everything – everyone – that was lost. Doesn’t that stand to reason?”

Loki’s stomach dropped. Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad. “Thor –” he began.

“Because Hogun and Volstagg and Fandral – seeing them was just the beginning. All those people in the pub. All the people, here in the street!” Thor stopped long enough to gesture wildly at the passers-by hurrying this way and that in the thoroughfare. “Father. _Mother._ The warriors and soldiers and every brave soul that stood up to Hela and paid the price for it. Everyone, Loki. Everyone we lost – they’re all still here! They’re here and we can find them and –”

He’d started moving again. Loki reached out and grasped him by the arm, trying to draw him to a halt, but it was like trying to stop a bilgesnipe. 

“And you think the way to save all of Asgard is to renounce the throne before you’re even named for succession?” Loki asked. “How did you arrive at those calculations, exactly?”

“Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Think about how it all played out. If Father hadn’t told me in my youth that I was to be named as heir, I would not have grown so cocky and arrogant. The coronation never would’ve taken place, we never would have journeyed to Jotunheim, Father wouldn’t have had to banish me to Earth …” He drew up just slightly, his face suddenly sheepish.

“I believe the next course of events would be me trying to wipe out the Frost Giants and subjugate Earth. Neither of which were your fault, as you may recall. And,” Loki raised a hand, “We still have the little matter of Hela. She’s already been locked away, Brother. Nothing we say or do here can change that. If you’re looking to save all of Asgard –”

“But don’t you see? That’s exactly my point. All the events are interwoven. Your actions may not have been my fault, but they may not have unfolded the way they had if things had gone differently. You would have learned of your heritage differently. Everything that followed –”

“If things had gone differently,” said Loki steadily, “You would not have met Jane Foster.”

For an instant, Thor hesitated.

Then his face hardened. “And Mother would not have died.”

Loki sucked in a breath. He was not certain if Thor was taking the blame for their mother’s death, or if he was merely considering the loss of knowing Jane to be a worthy exchange for Frigga’s life. 

Neither, in Loki’s opinion, was a good track for Thor’s thoughts to take. “Please,” he said, a little desperately. “Let’s just stop. Stop and think –”

“How can we possibly _stop and think_ when Mother and Father are probably right up there –” Thor gestured wildly towards the palace, which was now looming up in front of them. “– right there, right now, waiting for us? Don’t you want to see them again, Loki?”

“I’m not sure it’s as easy as that, Brother.”

“Oh, but it is. We’re here, and that means we can change the course of history. We can save them _all._ ” Thor’s eyes were almost glassy, as if he were going feverish. “Everyone who died, everyone who Hela slew, we could find a way, here and now, to save them. To save Asgard.”

“Only if that’s what we’re here to do,” said Loki carefully. “And I have to tell you, I don’t think that’s likely.”

“But it makes sense, doesn’t it? We must be here to fix an error, to right something that went wrong.” Thor’s eyes on him were desperate. “Don’t you think?”

“I think we have to be careful,” said Loki. “Don’t be fooled by this place, Brother. This is a test, after all. Remember, we might not really be here. More than likely, it’s an illusion. All part of the task.”

“‘More than likely.’” Thor’s hands were clenching into fists, Loki could see, his knuckles turning white. “Can you guarantee that? Can you give me your word, that we aren’t really here? That _this_ –” And he gestured around them, at the cobbled street at their feet and the grand palace before them and, above all, the people that were bustling through their daily lives around them. “– is all a lie? Can you promise me that?”

“… No.” The word came out soft, and reluctant, because it was true. Loki could not promise, because he was not sure. Even his magic could not see through to the truth of a spell this powerful. 

He had only a hunch. And that, it seemed, was not enough for Thor. Not in the face of this.

Loki found he could not hold it against his brother.

“I thought not.” Thor squared his shoulders. “Come with me, or not. But do not try to stop me again.”

Then he was moving towards the palace. Loki took a breath, steadying himself, and followed.

He almost had to run to keep up, which left precious little time to look around and marvel at the ancient and familiar archways and corridors and staircases. Home. Their home. His home. He’d never thought to see it again. Was he really seeing it now?

They passed guards and dignitaries and servants. Loki murmured greetings to the faces he recognized, and nodded to the ones he did not, and tried to quell the rising dread he felt in the pit of his stomach. Wrong, wrong, all of this was wrong, somehow, but he could not yet see how – and, more to the point, neither could Thor. 

And that could lead nowhere good.

And then, quite suddenly, they were outside the doors to the throne room. The honor guards snapped to attention, and Thor stopped with his hand reaching for the doors, suddenly hesitant.

Loki felt a breath of hope. “Brother,” he murmured, stopping by his side, “This is our last chance. Do not do this. Not like this, not yet. There must be another way, another reason we’re here. Because we cannot change the past. We can only learn to move forward.”

Thor chuckled softly. The sound ran Loki’s blood cold. “So I learned to think, Brother,” said Thor. “It looks like I was wrong.”

Then he was pushing open the door, striding through, with Loki trailing in his wake.

They marched up the long corridor towards the throne, Loki’s stomach twisting with every step. By the time they reached the foot of the throne, he was nearly sick.

Until, at last, he forced himself to look up.

And saw Odin, smiling down at them.

“Hello, my sons,” he said.


	10. Abdication

“Father,” said Thor.

For a moment, neither Thor nor Loki seemed capable of moving – of even managing to say anything else. Loki had been wondering, admittedly without much hope, if the shock of seeing the Warriors Three would’ve lessened the impact of seeing their father, alive and whole, before them once more.

But they hadn’t been there when Fandral and Hogun and Volstagg had died, had not seen them vanish in front of their eyes in a sheen of golden light. Had not had a lifetime of unresolved emotions, of things not said, of time not left to say them in.

_Or maybe that’s just me,_ thought Loki dazedly. 

“You’re early,” said Odin, smiling still. Loki quashed a sudden, almost irresistible urge to laugh. 

“You have no idea,” mumbled Loki, then added quickly, “We can come back later, if you are not yet ready to see us –”

Thor shot him a warning glare. “We were eager to speak with you,” said Thor. “We believe we know why you asked to see us.”

“Is that so?” mused Odin. Suddenly his face looked drawn, and Loki felt a sudden, wild surge of hope. Perhaps this was about something else. Perhaps there was still time to – 

“But before you would speak, Father, there is something I must say.” Thor caught himself, adding, “If I may.”

“Always, my son.”

Thor shot Loki a look that was partly threatening and partly apologetic – Loki cared for neither half of the expression – then stepped forward. “I know the time’s approaching when you are going to name one of us as your heir. I would like to renounce my claim.”

Odin stared at him. There was no anger in his face, no horror, no disappointment. Just an echo of barely-visible surprise. He seemed to be searching for words. “And are you going to tell your king – and your father – what has brought about this sudden change of heart?”

“Change of heart?” echoed Thor.

Odin leaned forward, just slightly. “Since childhood, you have never made secret your desire to be king.”

“That is precisely why I now renounce my claim. I have spent far too many years with notions of thrones and armies and glory. I am afraid of … of what I might become. What such fancies – such obsessions – might change me into, if they have not already. Such fixations are unworthy of a king, and can lead to places better left unexplored.” Thor was trying to sound assured, but his voice was coming out pleading. “I renounce my claim, Father. Do with the throne what you will – but do not give it to me.”

Odin’s gaze flickered from Thor to Loki and back again. “So it is to be your brother’s?”

“If he will have it,” said Thor.

“Leave me out of this,” hissed Loki, then looked over at Odin. “Father, if I may have a moment alone with my dear brother, I’m sure I’ll discover that this is nothing more than a case of nerves, brought about by the upcoming –”

Odin raised a hand, silencing Loki. “Thor, do you think you are the first such to have doubts about the ability to lead? If you were wholly certain of yourself, that indeed would be cause for concern. But the very fact that you are uncertain, that you are humble enough to come forward and confess your doubts – that is what proves you to be a worthy successor.”

Thor shook his head. “It’s more than uncertainty. It is knowing. I _know_ I am not the right ruler for our people, Father.” He coughed suddenly. “That is, I know I won’t be.”

Loki blinked. _Brother, don’t tell me you really believe that –_

“My son,” Odin began gently. “Do not think I made this decision lightly. I have always told you that you were both meant to be kings, and I have long considered which of you to name. But the truth of the matter is that both of your paths have always been set. You were meant to rule Asgard, Thor. You must not mistake humility for being unfit. Your hesitation is not a sign of weakness – it is a sign of growth.” He smiled. “It shows me I’ve made the right decision.”

“No.” Thor stepped forward, his hand clenched at his side. “You’re not listening. I am not asking you, I am _telling_ you. I refuse the throne! _I renounce my claim!_ ”

But Odin was shaking his head. “The coronation will not be for some years yet. Allow yourself to adjust to the idea. In time, I know you will find –”

“ _Father,_ ” said Thor, his voice now entirely different, “I know about Hela.”

Odin froze.

“Thor, _don’t,_ ” snapped Loki.

“I know I am not your firstborn. I know you had a child who was not only your heir, but the general of your armies – and the executioner of your enemies.” Thor’s voice was growing louder, and Odin rose from his seat, gesturing for the guards at the back of the room to exit. They took the hint, scurrying out as if afraid Odin was on the verge of changing his mind. “I know, before the Nine Realms came to be under our protection, that it was she who helped you _conquer_ them!” 

“Silence,” Odin managed, but there was no command in his voice. 

“And I know,” said Thor, climbing up towards the dais now, “I know, when she became too much for your all-powerful might to control, you cast her out. Locked her away. _Imprisoned_ her.”

“ _Silence,_ ” Odin repeated, harsh and ragged. He seemed to be struggling for breath.

“I know, Father. Loki and I, we _know._ The truth of it all.” Thor’s hands were clenched at his side, lightning beginning to crackle along his knuckles. “But I wonder – does Mother?”

“ _Stop it!_ ” Loki cried.

Odin’s head was bowed. His entire form had shrunken into itself. “I won’t deny it; you know too much of it.” When he looked up again, it was with the aged gaze of a much older man. “I can only ask you – how?”

“How?” The word didn’t leave Thor’s lips quite at a sneer, but it was close.

A shaking hand reached out to clutch the arm of the throne. “How … how did you learn what I’ve tried so hard to protect you from?”

“How did I _find out?_ That’s all you have to say to me? To _us?_ How doesn’t matter, Father! Do you know why? Because in a few decades, Hela is going to break out! And all of _this_ –” Thor gestured wildly at the throne room. “– Is going to be destroyed!” 

Hastily moving to stand beside Thor, Loki put a hand to his shoulder. “Brother,” he murmured. “Stop. You have no idea of the consequences –”

Thor whirled on him, lightning flashing in his eyes. “ _Stay out of this,_ ” he snarled. 

Loki sucked in a breath, falling silent. Thor stood upon the final step at the foot of the throne, so that he seemed to tower over the sitting Odin.

“Hela is going to break out, Father. All those centuries you spent imprisoning her? They were for nothing. She is going to escape, and she is going to come here, and she is going to wipe out every warrior and solider on the planet. And after she does that? She’ll keep going. Hundreds will fall. Thousands, will fall. They are going to die, brutally and senselessly, at the hands of your daughter. Our sister! And the only way to stop her, in the end? Is going to be to destroy Asgard itself. Leaving our people homeless. Orphaned. Refugees, with no where to go and no one to lead them. No one except me – your second firstborn. And –” Thor faltered. “Without a damn clue as to what to do next.”

Silence fell. Loki could feel a hundred different responses building on his tongue, and forced himself to swallow every one of them. 

“Thor, Son of Odin,” rasped their father at last, “I hereby release you from your claim to the throne of Asgard. You are freed from your obligations and duty to me as my heir … and as my son.”

“ _What?_ ” The word burst out of Loki before he could stop himself. “Father, you can’t be serious!”

“Does my second son speak up to renounce his claim as well?!” Odin’s good eye was blazing with fire in his skull.

“I’m not here for the throne!” Loki sputtered.

“Then join your brother in his exile.”

“ _Exile?_ No – hold on!” Loki grasped Thor by the arm, dropping his voice – though of course Odin, sitting just feet away, must still have been able to hear him. “Thor, this is madness. This can’t possibly be what we were sent here to do –” 

“ _Know your place, Brother,_ ” Thor snarled, and Loki released Thor’s arm as if he’d been burned.

“Sons of Odin, Princes of Asgard – you have presented yourselves to the All-Father, and you have been found wanting. As you reject your titles and birthrights, so you are princes and sons no longer.” Odin’s voice was shaking, though with rage or sorrow, Loki could not have said. “You are banished from your home and from the sight of the loved ones you have betrayed. You have until dawn to leave Asgard and be gone from the Nine Realms until the end of our days. You are hereby ordered to tell no one of what you’ve learned, and so ordered to never return – for our Gatekeeper’s all-seeing eyes will be watching you, and the penalty for breaking either judgement will be death.”

Odin struck the end of his spear Gungnir against the golden base of the throne, and the hollow ringing sound of it filled the room like the final ominous toll of a clock.

Or, perhaps, like a courtroom gavel being struck. Signifying that judgement – and sentence – had been passed.

“Father –” Loki began.

But Thor was taking him by the elbow, pulling him down the stairs. “Leave it, Brother,” said Thor quietly. “I know what we have to do next.”

“Oh?” Loki sputtered. “And what, in heaven’s name, would that be?”

But Thor wouldn’t answer, not until they were on the other side of the throne room’s doors, safely out of earshot of the guards. Only then did Thor drag Loki into a side corridor and answer him.

“I’ve got a plan, Brother. I can see it all clearly now – what we were sent here to do, what our next step must be.” Thor’s voice was grim. “We’re going to find where our dear sister is imprisoned. And then? We are going to kill her.”

* * * * *

“Thor. _Please._ You’ve got to listen.”

Thor looked up from where he was debating the rack of swords. “I have been listening, Brother. You’ve been listing all the reasons I shouldn’t be doing this, all the reasons this isn’t our purpose here. All the reasons I should go back to Father and beg forgiveness and set the timeline right.”

“I never said –”

“I’m paraphrasing. The point is, I’ve heard every word you’ve said. The problem you have with me is that I’m simply not agreeing.”

Loki bit back a growl somewhere deep in his throat, because this was frustratingly, undeniably true. “All right,” he said after a moment. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I ought to try listening to you instead. So talk to me.” He gestured around the room at their surroundings. “Why don’t you start by telling me why we came here?”

“The Armory? I should think that would be obvious. While I’d be lying if I said I’m not already feeling sufficiently reassured now that I have Mjolnir back in my hands –” Thor hefted the hammer he’d retrieved with no little joy the moment they’d entered the room. “ – we know from past experience that it won’t be enough to stop Hela with alone.” He paused, considering. “Or is that future experience? Still haven’t gotten the hang of time travel.”

“Yes, about stopping Hela.” Loki sat perched upon the edge of the far wall’s workstation, idly spinning one of his old daggers in his hands. “I have a few follow-up questions about that.”

“Such as?”

“Such as how you hope to find her, for a start.” Loki raised the dagger up on a wisp of green light, balancing its point on the tip of his index finger. “We know Father’s got her ‘locked away,’ but that really isn’t much of a lead, is it?”

Leaving the swords, Thor made his way towards the far wall where hung an array of crossbows. “That’s where you come in.”

Loki gave a disbelieving chuckle. “I beg your pardon?”

Thor considered the weapons for a moment, then reached with both hands for the massive crossbow in the center of the display. “You. You’ll use your magic to find her.”

“Heh.” Loki cocked an eyebrow at him. “I will, will I?”

“You can do it, can’t you?”

“Yes, well, I don’t see much reason to fuss over whether or not I _can_ until we figure out whether or not I _will_.”

“You said you were here to help me do what I was sent here to do.” Thor hefted the crossbow – it took him both hands to do it – and sighted along it experimentally. Then he frowned, looking over at Loki, the crossbow still raised. “Was that true?”

_Yes, damn you. If you’d only let me._ “All right. So you need me to find our sister for you. Fine.” Loki’s green light vanished, and as the dagger began to fall, he caught the blade neatly between his fingertips. “What’s the plan from there, exactly?”

“Kill her now instead of later.” Thor crossed the room to set the crossbow down on the counter beside Loki – where he’d already placed an array of short swords, daggers, two axes, a pike, and what appeared to be Hogun’s mace – then made his way back to the rack of swords. “I think I was pretty clear about that.”

“Yes,” said Loki patiently. “But how?”

Thor waved at the growing stack of weapons. “I’m going prepared this time.”

“No, Brother. You are not.” Loki slid off of the counter, making his way to stand beside Thor in front of the sword rack. “What’s worrying me is that I think you know that.”

Thor remained silent, but Loki could see him grow still, tension suddenly appearing in a hard line through his shoulders.

“You could bring every weapon in this armory, and every warrior in Asgard to wield them – and it still wouldn’t be enough.” Loki kept his voice soft, the same tone he might use trying to coax a frightened animal out from a hiding place. “Hela would win, just as she did before. We’re not strong enough to beat her. _You_ aren’t strong enough to beat her.”

“It was different last time.” Thor’s voice held a hard edge. “She draws her power from Asgard. If we confront her in her prison, where she’s weakened –”

“She was ‘weakened’ when she shattered your hammer into dust. She was ‘weakened’ when she tossed us both from the Bifrost and left us for dead.” Loki edged to one side, so that he could just catch Thor’s gaze – if Thor would only look at him. “What makes you think this fight will go any differently?”

“ _Because it has to, Loki!_ ” Thor roared.

Loki drew back, staring at him. 

“It has to.” Thor was clenching onto Mjolnir, electricity dancing along the hammer’s handle and flowing up the length of his arm. “We have been given a chance to save Asgard. We can’t fail. Not again.”

“But we didn’t fail.” Loki turned his dagger around and around in his hand. “We saved Asgard, in the end. We saved our people.”

But Thor was shaking his head. “Not enough of them.”

“Maybe not,” said Loki evenly. “But there was nothing more you could’ve done, Brother. Nothing more either of us could have done.”

“Until now.” Thor hefted Mjolnir. “I’ve been given a second chance. I’m going to stop Hela before she begins – or I’m going to die in the attempt.”

“Yes, and that’s precisely what frightens me. Thor, even if we were somehow strong enough to take her on – we’re going to run out of time trying to do it! Have you forgotten that we are on a deadline?” Loki raised his wrist, the undulating black restraint still burning into his skin. “Finding her will be no easy task, and I for one suspect …” Suddenly, he understood, and the thought struck him mute.

“What?” When Loki remained silent, Thor turned to look at him, only to find his brother staring back. “Loki?”

“That’s what you want.” Loki’s voice was quiet. “Isn’t it? To run out of time. Because then you’ll have paid the price you think you owe.”

Thor hesitated a fraction of a moment too long before answering. “I don’t want to die, Brother, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“I know you don’t _want_ to die.” Loki twisted the handle of the dagger around and around in his hands. “But I suspect the guilt of this place has you thinking you _should._ ”

Thor finally turned to look at him. “You say that as if you don’t believe us really here. Really home. Do you still think this all an illusion?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what you think. Do you really blame yourself for Hela? For Asgard? All of it?”

“My first action as king was to destroy the planet. How can I not blame myself?”

“All right, first of all, destroying the planet was technically _my_ action.” Loki raised an eyebrow, but Thor did not smile, and after a moment, Loki sighed. “Secondly, your first action was to _save our people’s lives_. How can you not see it that way?”

“Because the price was too high.” Thor suddenly looked exhausted. He took a few steps towards the side of the room, sagging onto the low bench by the side of the workstation. “Why didn’t he tell us, Loki? Why didn’t Father tell us about Hela? He left us unprepared – and left Asgard defenseless.”

Loki sat beside him, waiting a few beats before speaking. “Did you seriously just ask _me_ why our father failed to tell us something about our family history?”

“Fair point.” Thor chuckled, then grew somber again. “But I can’t wrap my mind around it, Brother. I can’t let it go. Because … if he had just told us! If he’d just given us time to plan, to prepare. We could’ve warned the people – we could’ve evacuated!”

“If, if, if,” Loki chided gently. “‘If onlys’ have never done anyone a moment of good. ‘If only’ is a pointless question to ask when one is looking into the past. That question only serves us when looking ahead.”

“That’s just it.” Thor’s iron resolve seemed to be returning. “I _am_ looking ahead, now that we’re here. I’ve got that second chance.” Thor clenched his hands into fists. “And I’m taking it. No matter the costs.”

But Loki saw the lightning sparking against the black restraint around Thor’s wrist, and his earlier certainty returned. He knew. He _knew_ his brother.

“If that were true, Brother, I’d do everything in my power to help you. Not just for your own sake, but for our people’s. There’s just one problem.” Loki grasped him gently by the arm, just above the restraint. “I don’t think we _are_ here. I think the only things here that are real are you and me. The rest is what you’re creating – out of your guilt and your need.” He took a breath. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, and not what you want to believe – but the longer we’re here, the more certain I am.”

“Yes, well, if you’re so sure that this is all an illusion,” and Thor waved a hand, indicating Asgard at large around them, “Why did you try so hard to stop me from speaking with Father and renouncing the throne?”

“What’s around us may not be real – but your reactions to it are real enough. And I was hoping that finding your path through this task would help you release some of what you’ve been carrying.” Loki gave his wrist a gentle squeeze. “And believe me, Brother, I understand. I understand about guilt, and remorse, and wishing you could take it all back. But remorse is a tool to help us change, not a club to beat ourselves senseless with. And I do believe you know that – because ever since I came home, you’ve never held my past against me. Not once.”

Thor’s eyes searched Loki’s gaze. Loki felt a blaze of hope. 

“And I don’t think that’s the only thing you know,” continued Loki, keeping his voice steady. “I think you _know_ that this place is nothing but an illusion. You just want it so desperately to be real that you’re allowing yourself to get swept up into it. But I don’t think we’re here to change the past, Brother. I think we’re here so we can move on from it.”

“Would you have me forget what we’ve lost?” asked Thor quietly.

“Never.” Loki released his wrist. “I would only have you stop drowning in it.”

Thor bowed his head, considering. Loki pulled in a breath, watching and waiting. To see if he’d reached his brother. To see if they’d solved the puzzle of why they were here.

To see if Thor would accept the solution.

“… I thank you,” said Thor at last, his head still bowed. “For your counsel and your concern. So solicitous of you, Brother – as always.”

“Of course,” said Loki uneasily. “I – I did mean what I said, you know.”

“Oh, no doubt. But the problem is that bit you said about nothing here being real.” Thor raised his head, staring straight ahead. “It’s got me wondering – are _you_ really here, Brother? Or have I been imagining you, along with the rest, because I really came here alone?”

Loki’s heart sank. 

“Because it seems to me, _Brother_ –” And here Thor turned to look at him, and the fury, the _coldness_ that was in his gaze as he met Loki’s eyes sent Loki pulling back just slightly, “It seems to me quite out of character to hear you talking about giving up and giving in. ‘Satisfaction is not in my nature’ – isn’t that what you once told me? The real you, that is.”

“Acceptance does not always mean defeat.” Loki scrabbled to keep his voice level. “Do you know what it cost me to learn that? Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

“Oh, no fear of that.” Thor came to his feet, reaching out a hand to call Mjolnir to him. “I came here to save lives, not take them.” The hammer slammed into his palm with the finality of a proclamation.

But Loki only chuckled. “Funny you should say that, since your plan of action is to kill our sister a bit earlier than last time.”

It was, perhaps, not the wisest course to take. Thor flew at him, towering over where Loki remained on the bench. “Whether _you_ are really _you_ or not – you claim to be here to help me. Is that the truth?”

“… Yes,” said Loki.

“Good.” Thor’s face was grim and unmovable. “Then go to your books and your spells and discover where we might find Hela. Then find me at the Bifrost in three hours. Because you’re right about one thing, Brother – we don’t have a lot of time.”

And then Thor swept out, no doubt to acquire enough horses to carry their new portable armory with them. Loki watched him go, then allowed himself to let out the breath he’d been holding. 

This was proving trickier than he’d anticipated. Loki had been so close, so _close_ to reasoning with his brother – but there was too much pain, too much guilt that this place had awoken and inflamed. Loki alone could not bring Thor back out of it, not with denial so strong.

Only one thing for it, then.

Loki rose, hesitated, and then swept a quick spell of invisibility about himself like a mantle. Ridiculous, perhaps, to be hiding oneself from figments of one’s brother’s imagination – but these figments had a reality to them far surpassing even Loki’s own illusions, and he had no doubt any stray guards or officials would report back to Odin if they spotted him. And that would create all sorts of problems, even if this place _was_ naught but a fiction.

So hidden, he slipped from the armory and made his way back into the palace by a side entrance. Then he strode through the well-known halls and corridors, moving as quickly and quietly as he could, trying to quell the uneasiness and anxiety churning through him. 

_It’s all an illusion,_ he reminded himself. _All an illusion. Nothing you see is really here._

But, of course, it all depended on what one saw, didn’t it?

He approached her quarters from the servants’ corridors, as he often had when he’d wished to visit this area of the palace without being spotted – and, of course, with the permission of the quarters’ resident. More than permission, actually; it had been her idea.

Would she be there, he wondered anxiously. She might be at the evening meal, or attending a meeting, or even be away from the palace entirely. Of course, if this was a recreation of the day as he remembered it, then – 

Ah. Yes.

He halted in the far doorway, for the door had been standing ajar, and stared across the room with his heart pounding in his throat and his chest aching. The spell of invisibility fell from him like a dropped cloak – though the truth of the matter was that she’d always been able to see through that spell anyway.

As she should. She was, after all, the one that had taught it to him.

“Loki!” She turned from where she had been plucking a slim volume from the bookshelf, and gave him the smile that had lived in his heart for so long – and had never thought to see before him again. 

It was a moment before he could find his voice.

“Hello, Mother,” said Loki at last. “I’m afraid I need your help.”


	11. Mother Knows Best

The hell of it was, a part of Thor knew that Loki was right. 

… oh, but Thor could ignore that, for now. If he just kept hardening his heart, just kept steeling himself to everything but what he’d chosen as his next course of action – if he did that, he could ignore his brother’s determined words and pleading eyes, ignore the dejection in his face when Thor had turned his back and left him sitting in the armory alone. Because right now, Thor was not particularly interested in facing that which he did not wish to face. The weight of his mistakes and his guilt and his grief had dragged at him ever since the day of Ragnarok – and he was tired. So _tired_ of facing it.

_Except that you haven’t been facing it,_ whispered a little voice somewhere in the back of his mind. _You haven’t been feeling anything at all. You’ve been putting on a brave face, forcing yourself to remain cheerful and upbeat and positive, even as the weight of it all tries to drag you down. You’ve never let yourself_ feel _a thing._

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” said Thor aloud. “Because I’m going to put it all to rights. And then there won’t be any pain to feel, will there?”

So he went to the stables, and chose and saddled two mounts, ignoring the surprised looks of the stablehands as he brushed past and around them. He wondered if Odin had informed anyone else of his sons’ disownment and banishment; had he done so, he must have added that he’d given them till sunrise to take their leave, for Thor was allowed to move about unchallenged.

He steered clear of the far end of the stables, where his own beloved Hildr would more than likely be in her stall. She had died shortly after this day, slain on the battlefield as she’d tried to carry him to safety, and he longed to find her, to throw his arms around her neck and tell her what a good and brave steed she was, and offer her one of the tiny golden apples she’d always loved.

But he knew the danger of letting any crack of emotion past the steel in his heart. It would undo his resolve to set things right.

It would undo him.

Once the horses were ready, he started towards the stables’ exit, only to draw up suddenly with a frown. There was no point in heading for the Bifrost to meet Loki; there was too much time left before they were due to meet. Well. Assuming it really was Loki who had come with him, and that his brother was not simply an illusion meant to tempt Thor from finishing what he came here to do – 

_You know he is real,_ whispered the voice in the back of his mind. _Just as you know this place is not._

Quashing this wretched thought, Thor gestured to a nearby stablehand. “I left a selection of weapons in the armory. Load up the horses – I will return for them at sundown. Please,” he added, earning a smile from the stablehand.

“Of course, Your Highness,” said the man, giving a slight bow. He turned to go, but Thor reached out and caught him by the arm. The man stopped, surprised.

“What’s your name, again?” asked Thor.

“Asmund, Your Highness,” said the man. He was only slightly older than Thor, and he had a quick smile and kind eyes. 

“Of course,” said Thor. He gave the man’s arm a squeeze, then released him. “Not to worry, Asmund. I’m going to save you. I’m going to save you all.”

The other’s gaze on him was confused. “Of course, Your Highness.” Asmund bowed again, looking slightly uncomfortable, then hastened away, leading the horses by the reins. Thor watched him go, feeling as if he were standing on the edge of something that he couldn’t quite make out through a haze.

So – where to now? Thor might be ready, but he knew Loki would not be; his brother would need time to uncover the secret of Hela’s location. And yet, even as Thor considered this, a feeling of unease began to build in the pit of his stomach. Would Loki really be using this time to help his brother? Or would he be concocting schemes of his own, having decided to disobey Thor because only he, Loki, knew what was best? Because only Loki could possibly hold all the answers?

“Perhaps –” Thor murmured to himself, “Perhaps I’d better see how my dear brother is getting on.”

He made his way back into the palace, keeping to the secondary corridors that were primarily used by the servants. This in itself was not unusual – it was hardly the first time an Odinson had wanted to avoid their father or their duties – and he attracted no other notice but a nod or a smile.

But instead of heading for the library to see if Loki was doing as he’d promised, Thor instead found his feet carrying him – unwisely, dangerously – in another direction.

Back towards the throne room. 

He approached the entrance, his boots treading heavily on the shining tiles inlaid into the corridor. He hesitated, gathering himself, then pushed his way through the small but elegantly carved doors that led inside. 

The room was empty.

He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, then walked slowly inside. The throne looked small against the backdrop of the cavernous golden walls, and yet his gaze was inexorably drawn to it. He forced himself to look away, tilting his head up instead to view the murals embedded into the ceiling – of Odin and Thor, Frigga and Loki, peace treaties with the Frost Giants and sun-drenched days with the warrior nobility of Asgard. On this day in history, those murals were but a century or two old, and as Thor looked up he found himself wondering if Odin would order these covered over, as well, casting out all record and memories of his sons as effectively as he’d cast out those of his daughter.

Odin. He’d thought, perhaps, that he’d returned here to find his father – but if that was the case, he would’ve left as soon as he found the throne empty. 

And then Thor heard a voice.

“If not Odin, dear Brother – what is it you’ve come here to find?”

The voice was not Loki’s.

Turning slowly, Thor looked up at the throne. And there she was, just as she’d been when she had first appeared on the cliffside. No cloak, no helmet, no giant wolf or conjured swords or risen armies. Just the black armor and glittering eyes and cruel smile. 

“So. This time round, you’ve managed to escape early.” Thor smiled coolly, aware of the familiar weight of Mjolnir in his hand. “Impressive.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I’ve escaped.” Hela waved a hand around the throne room. “It’s more like I’m always here.”

“And where is ‘here,’ exactly?” Thor began towards the throne, his voice level. “On the throne you wrongly claim as your own?”

“I like where you’re coming from, but no.” Hela waved languidly. Odin’s spear Gungnir materialized in her hand. “I mean I’m always where _he_ is. Odin imprisoned me with his magic, his life force. So he carries me with him wherever he goes.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice as if conveying a secret. “Rather like guilt, when you think about it.”

The strike hit home. Thor felt the rage building in his throat, and underneath it the roiling of pain he’d been trying to choke back down since they’d left the ashes of Asgard behind. “Odin should feel no guilt for imprisoning such as you,” he snarled at her. “You vicious, cruel, _monstrous_ –”

Hela held up a hand. “Now, you might want to stop there, before you say something you regret.” She watched as he reached the base of the stairs leading to the throne. “Let’s get on with it. Tell me what we’re doing here.”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Thor raised Mjolnir. “I’m going to kill you.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Because that went so well the last time you threatened me with that toy, did it?”

“Last time, I was not seeking to kill. Not at first.” He began the ascent towards her, pausing on each step, watching and waiting for her to make a move. “I’ll not make the same mistake today.”

“Well, I can’t fault you for not giving fair warning.” Hela leaned to one side, draping herself across the throne at her ease. “Though it might be more effective to be less blunt. I daresay you’ve lost the element of surprise.”

“It only seemed fair.” He climbed another step. “You were kind enough to make it so easy to find you. More than that, actually, considering you came right to me. I thought Loki and I were going to have to track you down.”

“Speaking of our dear little brother – Aren’t you afraid of doing this without him here?”

“Sister,” said Thor, giving her a horrible smile. “This is between you and me. Don’t you think?”

“Brother,” said Hela, smiling horribly in return, “I do believe you wish to hide your pain from _him_ almost as much as you wish to hide it from yourself. Don’t _you_ think?”

Thor stopped, only a few steps from where she sat. He longed to strike her, to run her through, to crush her against the golden throne and then crush the hated throne itself right along with her. He felt a kind of hollow surprise at the sensations, a horror that he was welcoming such impulses, was savoring and nurturing them, instead of pushing them away. And then the surprise and horror were gone, and all that was left was the grief and the rage, the _rage_ above all of it. 

He could carry it all no longer. He’d do anything to rid himself of it. Anything. _Anything_ – 

“It’s funny,” he mused, taking another step, as the lightning beginning to crackle around his knuckles.

Hela propped her chin upon her hand, her eyes dancing amusement. “What’s that?”

“Just that – I’ve dreamed so often of doing more. Of stopping you, before you rained your death and destruction upon us. Of raising Mjolnir and protecting Asgard from your annihilation. Now that I’m here –” Thor looked up to meet her gaze. “I find myself wishing I’d brought a sword.”

“A straightforward running-through is so much more satisfying than all that messy smashing, isn’t it?” Hela raised a finger. “Remember, I wielded Mjolnir too. I _know._ ”

Another step. Thor could feel the lightning grinding between his teeth.

“You know what I think, dear Brother?” Hela mused. “I think you would’ve made a far better Executioner than a king.”

Thor stopped.

“It’s not that I’m saying you’re a terrible king,” said Hela, tapping her chin in apparent thoughtfulness. “Although you did destroy the planet and trap your people in the depths of space on your very first day. Come to think of it, that was hardly your first screw-up, was it? How about the time –” She paused to chuckle, pressing one elegant hand to her side in mirth. “How about the time you threw such a temper tantrum on your original coronation day that you got yourself kicked out of the place? Left your evil brother to take over the throne and try to wipe out a race! Classic Thor, that was. Oh, and let’s not forget bringing your girlfriend home to meet the parents. Seeing you with a human did your poor old mum right in, didn’t it?”

The rage was surging through him like lightning – or maybe it was his lightning, crashing through his veins with every beat of his heart. 

“You see what I mean?” Hela spread her hands wide. “Look at you now! All fired up and ready to destroy something. You’re a marvelous Executioner, Brother. That’s where your talents truly lie. You don’t even have to try! Death follows you wherever you go. Dad and Frigga, your most loyal friends – hundreds of your bloody people.” She shook her head, as if unable to wrap her mind around it. “You bring Death even when you don’t mean to – even when you’re _trying_ to save them. You always seem to get it just a little bit wrong, don’t you? Too little, too late. You’re a natural at failing them. At losing them.” She leaned forward from the throne, arching an eyebrow at him. “I’m almost envious.”

She smiled, and it was like a red flag, like the spark setting the tinder ablaze. With a roar, he launched himself at her, Mjolnir singing through the air as he swung with a blow hard enough to take her head off her shoulders. 

Or would have done, except Hela was no longer there. 

He smashed into the empty throne, Mjolnir landing a crater-like dent into the ornate golden back. For a moment, he could only stare at the damage, resisting a wild urge to finish what he’d started and hammer at the golden throne until it turned to dust.

“That looks like it would’ve _hurt,_ ” said Hela, woundedly. He spun to see her standing at the foot of the throne, arms crossed over her chest, still holding Odin’s spear. “Not that it would’ve done any lasting damage, of course. Funny, isn’t it? The one enemy you can’t beat is your big sister.”

“Perhaps I’m just not trying hard enough.” He leapt off the throne with Mjolnir raised, summoning the lightning within him as he arced towards her. Hela struck the end of the spear against the floor almost lazily, and a ripple of force burst outward from her, the shockwave slamming into him and sending him flying backwards to crash against the foot of the stairs. His back struck hard against one sharp gold corner and he groaned, feeling a shock of pain radiate down his spine.

“It’s silly that you’re trying to fight me.” Hela walked sedately down the aisle towards him, as if to her own coronation. “We should be teaming up, you and me. Go back to the old days of slaying and conquering. Destruction is the family business, when you really think about it. Look at Dad and Baby Brother.” She grinned at him in delight. “Look at _you!_ ”

“I am nothing like you,” he managed. He tried to stand, but could only manage a half-crouch, supporting himself on knees and hands. He was not certain which pain was making it so hard for him to focus, to find his feet and face her again. “We … are nothing like you.”

She stopped beside him, looking down with a not unsympathetic expression. “It’s hard to admit the truth even to yourself, isn’t it? Grief manifests itself in different ways in everyone, you know. You mustn’t judge yourself against us.” She leaned down and murmured into his ear as if bestowing a secret. “At least, when _you_ annihilate hundreds, it’s not your intention. It’s merely the result of your failure.”

Mjolnir fell from his grasp as he reached up with both hands to grab her by the throat. Thor gritted his teeth as Hela began to laugh, her mirth echoing through the chamber as he pulled himself upright using her throat for purchase. And still she laughed, her eyes twinkling merriment as he held her with trembling hands.

“What’s the matter, Brother?” Hela grinned. “Aren’t you strong enough to stop Death?”

And then he was roaring, and the lightning roared with him. The throne room burst into white flame, the lightning ripping through him with a force like an exploding star. He could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing but the lightning’s fire and the touch of Hela’s neck beneath his hands.

He fell back, gasping, stumbling away, as the lightning rolled away as suddenly as it had appeared. Hela had vanished. In the wake of the explosion, the sudden silence was almost as deafening as the explosion itself. He stood frozen, trying to gather himself, and dared to wonder if he had managed it at last. Managed to defeat her. Managed to defeat – 

“All right. You’ve made your point, I think.” Thor whirled, to see Hela sitting on the throne once more. She looked at him with a bored expression. “Don’t you think it’s time to try a different approach?”

“This – isn’t possible.” Thor’s voice was hollow to his own ears. 

Hela propped her chin on her hand. “What’s that, dearie?” 

“You … Alive …” He shook his head, stumbling towards where she sat on the throne. “I … I hit you with everything I have …”

“I thought we established in the last timeline that you haven’t the strength to kill me.” Hela waved a hand. “Why would this time be any different?”

“Because this timeline is _mine,_ ” snarled Thor, or tried to. His voice was too hoarse, too empty to carry any real threat. “This _world_ is mine. I – I am in control, here. To write the ending as I see fit. To save Asgard, to save my _people,_ my, my friends … _family_ …” He was gasping, crackles of lightning sizzling along his nerveless fingers. He raised a shaking hand to jab at her. “To stop _you_.”

“Oh, dear Brother.” She tilted her head, her mouth pulled into a mocking smile. “A failure such as you cannot stop me. Not in a universe where Death comes for all.” 

“Then I’ll stop you here, _here,_ if nowhere else!” He was clenching his hands into fists, climbing the stairs towards the throne, ready to launch himself at her again. To strike her with lightning blast after lightning blast until he’d burned the death and the loss and the pain away. “If I cannot save them all in the world I left behind, I’ll save them _here!_ ”

“Interesting proposition,” Hela mused. She stood suddenly to regard him, Gungnir held loosely at her side. Thor tripped a step back from her, stumbling and landing on one knee, leaving her to peer down at him with a smile. “What would you give up for it?”

“W-what?”

“To restore the ones you lost. To bury the pain away. What would you give in trade?” She tilted her head to one side as she looked down at him. “Would you stay here?”

“Stay here?” Thor faltered.

“Yes, stay,” she said, looking faintly exasperated at his failure to keep up. “Stay, in this place, in this time. Reconcile with Odin, reclaim the throne, live out your life as you did before. Only this time, do it without the mistakes. Without the missteps. Keep them safe, this time. And I promise you, I will leave you and this realm in peace. All the realms. They can be yours. You can save everyone.” She held a hand out towards him, in apparent beneficence. “All you need to do is stay.”

The black cuff around his wrist flared, burning deeper into his flesh. He ignored it.

He took a breath. Opened his mouth to speak.

“Oh, my son,” said a new voice behind him. “Staying _here_ has been exactly your problem.”

Hela’s eyes narrowed, and she hissed in anger. Thor turned, knowing who he’d see, knowing how it would hurt.

Frigga stood at the base of the throne. She was wearing the last outfit he’d seen her in, the gown of sky-blue silk and her golden battle armor, her hair flowing beneath a crown of braids. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of sadness and love.

A few steps behind her stood Loki. He met Thor’s gaze, his face such a mirror of their mother’s that Thor had to look away.

Back to Frigga.

“Mother?” Thor said softly. He could feel the anger draining out of him, the roar of pain rushing up from beneath it. He came to his feet, took a tentative step down the stairs towards her.

“ _Stop._ ” Hela struck the end of Odin’s spear against the golden base of the throne. “Go to her, and you leave my offer behind.”

“My darling, you have been trapped in her offer – trapped _here_ – for far too long.” Only Frigga’s twisting hands betrayed any agitation. “You blame yourself for that which was never your fault. Thor, you ask yourself to carry what no king, what no one at all, could ever hope to carry. Please. Let it go.”

“Stay out of this, All-Mother,” Hela snarled. Frigga looked up at her, flashing her most mischievous smile.

“What’s wrong, goddess of death?” Frigga winked at her. “Afraid my son may stop fearing you?”

Hela sneered at her. “Everyone fears Death. Even kings. Even _you._ ”

But Frigga shook her head. “It is not Death we fear. It is loss.” She looked up at Thor, her eyes warm and light and full of love. “There was nothing more you could’ve done. Nothing more to save me, nothing more to save your father. Nothing more to save those whose lives were taken. You saved those you could – and now, you are guiding our people home. You have done well, Thor. Let it be enough. Let _you_ be enough.”

“I-I can’t,” said Thor. His breaths felt broken in his chest. “I’ve tried, Mother, I’ve tried and I can’t. Every time – every time I look into the faces of our people, I see them frightened, and _grieving._ And yet the look at me with such trust. Such _faith._ I’ve already failed them once before. What if I fail them again?”

Frigga lifted her chin. “You will never fail them, Thor. Because you love them. You know the truth of that, my son. Just as you know that this place cannot do what you want it to do.”

Thor took a few more shaky steps towards her. Hela made a sound of protest, and he stopped, hesitating.

“This place,” he said at last. “The throne, the palace, the townspeople – Hela – _you,_ Mother … I know it is an illusion. I just … didn’t want to admit it.”

Frigga watched him, her eyes sad. “Control is always an illusion.”

“Oh, _fine._ ” Hela crossed her arms over her chest in a sulk, the spear tucked into the crook of her elbow. “So _fine,_ it’s all an illusion. What of it? So what if none of this is real? What has history and reality ever given you?” 

Thor’s eyes were stinging with unshed tears. He looked up at Hela, almost placatingly. 

She sneered in return. “So this mystical little test you’ve gotten yourself all caught up in hasn’t really taken you into the past! So it’s all an illusion pulled forth from the depths of your own mind! So what?” Hela waved a hand. “Do you really want to turn your back on it? Go back to the way you were, haunted and tortured, forced every day to admit to all your failings as a king? As a hero? There’s nothing for you out there anymore. Is there?”

She grinned, her teeth flashing. Thor hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. Not at Frigga.

At Loki.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to start into him too,” snapped Hela at Loki. He did not spare her a glance, just kept his eyes on Thor, his expression a silent plea. Thor shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Brother,” said Thor softly. “I can’t make this right for you, can I? I can’t for any of us.” Thor turned back, only to find Hela grinning at him, daring. 

“That’s what I thought.” Hela waved mockingly at Loki. “Little brothers are nice and all, but they aren’t really _enough,_ are they? So stay here. To Hell with reality. Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” said Thor softly. “Yes. To Hel with it.”

Then he lunged forward, Loki’s dagger materializing in his hand. 

Lightning flowed down his arms and across the blade. Hela spun away, though not fast enough to stop Thor as he brought the blade home.

Not into Hela’s chest, but into the center of the golden throne of Asgard.

Hela shrieked, a noise like metal screeching upon itself, and raised a hand towards his throat. But it was too late, for she was already beginning to tear apart, dark fire streaming from her eyes and ears and mouth like blood. Her form began to crumple, her hair dripping ashes, her limbs melting like smoke. Behind her, the throne was twisting and writhing, beginning to collapse into itself like a dying star. The entire chamber began to tremor and waver, and Thor staggered down the stairs, turning back just in time to see Gungnir fall from Hela’s decaying hands, the disintegrating throne pulling her remains into its wake. The last thing he saw of her were two burning eyes, glaring fury at him before vanishing in black flames and dark light.

And then all of it was gone: the throne, Hela, the palace chamber itself. Thor blinked, thinking his vision was distorted – but it was their surroundings that had begun to blur into itself, as if they stood within a painting left out in the rain, the colors and details melting and blending together.

Something on the floor before him stood out in sharp relief, glinting in the fading light. Thor stepped forward, finding the blade Loki had conjured for him. He knelt, picking it up gingerly, turning it over in his hand to regard it.

“Well done, my son,” said Frigga softly behind him.

Thor whirled, thinking her already beginning to etch away along with their surroundings – but she stood there as clearly, as _alive,_ as she’d always been. Loki was standing just behind her, his eyes bright.

“Mother,” Thor began. “I –”

“Hush, son. No more apologies. We haven’t time for them.” Frigga smiled almost apologetically. “And I’m as much illusion as she was, you know.”

“I know,” said Thor, his heart aching. Then a thought struck him and he frowned. “But – wait. If you are but an illusion, how could you help me see what I could not see for myself?”

“Because,” said Frigga, taking his hands in hers, “Everything I’ve taught you, every memory we have together – and my love for you – you’ll always have those with you. You’ll always have _me_ with you.”

Thor smiled at her, feeling tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes. He squeezed her hands in his – not a moment too soon, for when she stepped back, her hands were beginning to pale into the blur of their surroundings.

“Mother?” said Loki softly. Frigga turned, and Loki held out for her the white blossom that he’d plucked from the tree in the town square. She smiled, taking the flower in her fading hands, and held it to her face to breathe in its fragrance. 

“Mother, we bid you take your place in the halls of Valhalla.” Loki’s voice was heavy in his throat. “Nor shall we mourn, but … but rejoice.”

“My sons,” said Frigga fondly, giving them both a final smile, filled with love and warmth and pride.

And then she was gone, and Asgard along with her. 

Leaving Thor and Loki alone, and standing once more in the gardens of Ord.

* * * * *

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.

“Thank you, Brother,” Thor said at last, and handed Loki the dagger he’d retrieved from the throne room floor. Loki took it with a grimace, unable to banish the mental image of the blade coated with the remains of the melting illusion of their sister.

“I conjured that just now for _you,_ ” he grumbled, wiping imaginary specks of dust off the edges of the blade with his cape. “You really didn’t need to give it back …” 

But Loki trailed off, his throat aching with unshed tears. He could feel Thor watching him, his brother once again wearing his eyepatch and shorn hair.

“I almost got us killed,” Thor began thickly.

Conjuring the dagger away in a wave of green light, Loki turned to his brother and groaned. “Are you – seriously? Are you seriously going to start up with another list of all the things you blame yourself for? Weren’t you paying any _attention_ to everything that just happened??”

“No, Brother, you misunderstand. Pushing everything down is what got me into this mess. Not talking about it, as if pretending it didn’t exist would make it so.” Thor wiped clumsily at his good eye with the back of his hand. “I knew that place was an illusion. Knew it as long as you did – maybe longer. I just … I didn’t want to face it. Because if this wasn’t about giving us a second chance to save what we lost – all that was left was facing the loss. And I didn’t want to do that. Because … because it _hurts._ ”

He stopped, and went to his knees at the edge of the mist-filled pathway, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. After a moment, Loki came and sat beside him. Not offering platitudes or consolations. Just letting him be.

Letting him feel.

After a long time, Thor took a shuttering breath, and wiped at the tracks on his face. “So did I fail the test?” he asked. 

“No,” said Loki reassuringly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “You passed.”

Thor actually managed a chuckle. “How can you be sure?”

Loki nodded towards the row of doors in front of them. “Because of that,” he said.

Thor followed his gaze. The first door they’d gone through – the one with the clock face – had vanished. The two others remained, silently waiting for them to begin again.

“You’d think I’d be happier.” Thor groaned. “The Rune is behind the last door, isn’t it? The one with the bloody skull on it.”

“Probably,” Loki admitted. “The problem is that I don’t think we’ll be allowed to open that one next.”

“What?” Thor sounded more perplexed than angry. He came to his feet, reaching for the knob on the last door. He tried to turn it, frowned, then tried again. 

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he sighed, squeezing his good eye shut and smacking his forehead against the unmoving wooden panel. Loki felt a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Rules are rules, Brother. We have three trials we must pass – and we must go in order.” Loki stood, straightening his green cape behind him, feeling better for having it back. “And I trust you’ll let me take the next one.”

“The next one?” Thor pulled back from the door and turned to look at him, puzzled. “The next one what?”

“The next door – and, therefore, the next task.” Loki pointed at the door with the silhouette of the bird; a raven or crow, by the look of its shape. “Whoever opens the door is the one who gets the challenge. Remember?”

“Right, right, right,” said Thor, sounding distracted. He hesitated, looking from Loki to the door and back again, and Loki braced himself for an argument. Only to hear Thor say, “All right then, Brother. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Really?” Loki blinked. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Thor arched an eyebrow, and Loki saw now that some of the tension his brother had been carrying these weeks of their voyage had eased away from the corners of his mouth and eye. There was the Thor he knew, shining through at last – all the rest of their troubles be damned. “I trust you, Brother.”

“The more fool you,” retorted Loki, but he was smiling brightly. “All right then.”

He grasped Thor’s wrist with one hand, the other reaching out for the door. For just a moment, just as it opened, the silhouette of the bird flared with light, and Loki realized it was neither raven nor crow.

It was a magpie.

And then the open doorway flared with white light, and they were drawn inside –

* * * * *

“Loki?” It took Loki a moment to recognize Thor’s voice. Had it really been that long? “Brother, are you all right??”

Loki groaned, his head pounding, his eyes tightly closed against the bright light. Damn them all. Would they never let him rest? 

“ _Loki._ ” Thor’s voice was insistent. And then, quite suddenly, he was touching him, putting a hand on Loki’s shoulder to shake him. “Loki, it would be really helpful if you were to wake _up_ and –”

“Stop _touching_ me,” Loki snarled, battering Thor’s hand away. He forced his eyes open, then sat up, only to feel a stab of pain shoot through his forehead at the sudden movement. He pressed his hands to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut again. “All these months without paying me a second thought, and now you come to call? You could’ve at least let me know you were coming. I would’ve tried to clean up the place.”

“Loki, what are you talking about?” Thor’s voice was unsteady, enough so that Loki risked cautiously opening his eyes again. Something about Thor seemed … wrong, but their surroundings were so much more alarming that Loki quickly turned his attention away.

“Where are we?” Loki hissed, gazing around them. They were sitting on a forest floor, cast in the single beam of sunlight that had managed to break through the overgrowth. The trees surrounding them were ancient, massive – beyond even what could be found in the woods of Asgard.

Loki felt his mouth go dry. Sudden fear set his heart racing, but he forced himself to quell it, to veil the panic behind a mask of cool disdain.

“Where have you taken me? We aren’t even on Asgard anymore.” Loki gritted his teeth, forcing himself to lower his hands from the sides of his head. “Has the All-Father decided I’ve outstayed my welcome? Is it no longer to be imprisonment, but banishment?”

“Loki.” Thor – he’d cut his hair, Loki saw, and was missing a bloody _eye_ – was looking at him with naked fear etched into every plane of his face. “What are you talking about? Where – where do you think I’ve taken you from?”

Loki stared at him, nonplussed. Then he gave a little snort.

“Did you sustain a brain injury along with the loss of the eye, dear Brother? Very well, I’ll humor you. Before awakening here, I have been spending the last year in my cell in the dungeons of Asgard, serving my eternally-drawn life sentence for my crimes against Jotunheim and Midgard. Especially Midgard.” Loki arched an eyebrow in mock concern. “Did you somehow forget?”

Thor stared at him, speechless.

Loki’s laugh was as caustic as it was hollow. “At least you came to visit.”


	12. I Have Lived On the Lip of Insanity

“Come then, Thor – don’t be shy! I’m aching to know what motivates this particular good deed.” Loki’s eyes bored into Thor’s, where the other was crouching beside him in the leaves and the dirt of the forest around them. “Did Odin force this task upon you? Or did you nobly volunteer to escort me to my exile?”

“Loki.” Thor shifted slightly, as if readying himself to give chase should Loki suddenly bolt away. “You’ve – you’ve not been exiled.”

“ _Don’t lie to me,_ ” Loki snarled, with such venom that Thor jolted slightly, actually _jolted,_ and pulled back as one might from a coiled snake about to strike. “I’ve had my fill of lies from those claiming to be my loving family.”

Thor shook his head, regarding Loki steadily. The eyepatch made him look so like Odin that it was Loki’s turn to flinch. “I’m not lying to you. I promise you – I won’t lie to you.”

“No?” Loki raised his arm, exposing the cuff of undulating black magic that was burning into his wrist. “Then what is this, if not a restraint to escort the prisoner to his sentence?”

Thor shifted again. “It’s not –”

“Or is it more than that?” A spike of adrenalin shot through his heart, his stomach beginning to churn. The panic he’d been just keeping at bay was threatening to loom up and drown him. “Did he find a way at last?”

“What?” Thor stared at him in confusion. “Did who find a way to do what?” 

“Odin.” He could hardly get the words out; each one seemed poised to choke him. “Has he found a way to bind my magic?”

Thor took too long to answer. Breathing fast, Loki struggled to his feet, nearly toppling back over as the blood rushed from his head. Thor leapt up and reached out to steady him, but Loki staggered away, holding up a hand in warning. 

“Stay away from me,” Loki snapped. He took a few shallow breaths, steadying himself, then looked up at Thor, eyes blazing. “So you’ve come not to escort me to my banishment, but to gloat over my punishment. How _thoughtful._ ”

“Loki. Enough. Your magic has not been bound.” Thor gestured at him. “Conjure an illusion and you’ll see.”

Loki meant the laugh to come out sarcastic and venom-filled, but instead it sounded faintly hysterical. “And have the flesh seared off my arm for my trouble? I know how a binding spell works. To think you’ve resorted to your bullying ways so quickly.”

“Loki – ”

“Am I to assume dangers lurk within every shadow in this place? Well, of course – why else take me to a place unknown? There’s much more danger in having to fight the unfamiliar. And it’s all the more impossible when your weapons are bound.” He could feel himself beginning to tremble, and wondered if he should bother to hide it. This was what they wanted, wasn’t it? For him to feel such fear. “I’ll be dead before you can make it back to Asgard.”

“Loki.”

“Such a tidy solution you and the All-Father have arrived at!” Loki raised his wrist, resisting the urge to claw at the binding and strip it away, even if it meant tearing away his own skin in the process. “It’s not an execution if it’s not by your own hand, is it?!”

“ _Loki._ ” Thor raised his own wrist, and Loki saw identical writhing strands of dark magic wrapped around Thor’s forearm. The sight of it struck him momentarily silent. “We were not sent here by Odin, you are not being banished, and your magic has _not_ been bound.” Thor lowered his arm, then took a step towards him; Loki braced slightly, but relaxed when Thor came no closer. “All right?”

Loki stared at Thor with narrowed eyes. Thor returned his gaze steadily.

“… All right. Fine. Let’s say I believe you for now.” Loki gestured at the forest surrounding them. “Then what are we doing here?”

Thor hesitated.

“Taking too long to answer is the sign of the inexperienced liar,” said Loki, with mock helpfulness.

“I’m just – surprised.” Thor shifted his weight. “You really don’t remember?”

“What is it I am supposed to remember, exactly?”

“We _were_ sent here. Both of us.” Thor took a breath. “By a – a sorcerer of sorts. I think.”

Loki gazed at him uncertainly. There was an air of earnestness about Thor that Loki was hard-pressed to see as an affectation; and then, of course, there was the matter of the matching spell binding Thor’s wrist. On the other hand, Thor was a better trickster than Loki would ever admit to him. What to believe? “I see,” said Loki at last, trying for a feint, “that you’re already forgetting your assurances to tell me the truth –”

“ _I am telling you the truth._ ” Thor did not exactly snarl the words, but he spoke them with a force that drew Loki up short. “We were sent here, both of us, and not as a punishment. Although,” and here Thor grimaced, “you’re partway right about one thing.”

“What?” asked Loki, the word gruff in his throat.

Thor gestured to the restraints on their wrists. “If we don’t escape from here in time, these really will send us bursting into flame.”

Loki stared at him. “Well! What a delightful excursion you’ve gotten us wrapped up into, then. Really well done; A-plus, Thor.”

“What makes you think this is my doing?” returned Thor. Loki gave him a condescending smile.

“If you can give me a plausible explanation as to how I’ve managed to get us kidnapped from Asgard while in the solitary confinement of my cell, I’d love to hear it.”

The hint of a smile tugged at Thor’s lips. “If anyone could do it, Brother, it’s you.” 

“ _Not_ – ‘Brother,’” snarled Loki. “That time is gone, Thor.” Thor’s expression remained steady, but Loki could see the light in his good eye dim just slightly. It was so surprising that this old battle cry could actually provoke a reaction in Thor that Loki felt surprise, followed by a momentary triumph. 

And if there was an uneasiness in his heart beneath that, well – he was not about to examine it too closely.

“So who is this mage whose wrathful ire you’ve incurred so effectively?” Loki asked briskly, his gaze traveling around the forest. “Some all-powerful sorcerer? A new enemy you managed to make for the realm?” He indicated Thor’s eyepatch. “Perhaps whoever cost you that eye?”

“I don’t know who sent us here,” said Thor, and when Loki narrowed his gaze, Thor repeated, “I _don’t._ Not – not exactly.”

Loki sneered. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

“I haven’t been asking a lot of questions, to be honest. Just been following your lead up ‘till now. Leaving the details to you.” Thor squinted his good eye. “Can you truly not remember?”

“I …” began Loki uneasily. There did seem to be something tickling the back of his mind, some overlooked bit of information or forgotten detail that was there just slightly out of his reach. He strained to grasp at it – 

The pain exploded through his head with such force that, for a moment, he was convinced that Thor had called down a bolt of lightning to strike him. His chest seized; his heart seemed to lurch against his ribs. His eyes squeezed shut and he swayed, struggling to stay upright, his hands grasping at his temples as he hunched his shoulders at the pain of it. 

Then he felt a hand laid gently between his shoulder blades. 

“The next time I remind you not to touch me,” said Loki, almost conversationally, eyes still closed, “It will be with my dagger between your ribs.”

Thor’s hand fell away. Loki forced himself to stand tall, knowing that if he toppled over now, he’d never recover from the humiliation of it. He breathed deeply, taking his time, and waited for the sharpest of the pains in his head to recede slightly.

Then he opened his eyes and glared at Thor. He was relatively certain the attack had not been Thor’s doing, but it made him feel better to scowl all the same.

“… All right,” said Thor, watching him, an odd look in his good eye that Loki could not quite read. “I won’t ask you to try that again. So let’s not worry about the _who_ for now, okay? The important thing to know is that we have to have to get out of here before our time runs out. And that means doing what we were sent here to do.”

“Any reason to think you actually know what that might be?” Loki rubbed uneasily at the back of his neck, massaging against the ghost of pain still drilling its way against his temples.

“We’re here,” said Thor carefully, “to … pass a test. Complete a challenge.”

“A challenge.” Loki darted his gaze at the surrounding forest – immense trees, no path, sun choked off from the ground in every direction other than the single small clearing where they now stood. “What kind of challenge?”

“I … I don’t know. I was hoping you would.” Thor was watching him with an intensity that Loki found slightly unnerving. “This is _your_ challenge, after all.”

Loki gritted his teeth and turned away, trying to force down the welling fear and frustration. He still didn’t know if he believed Thor, still didn’t know if this wasn’t all just a clever trick. Thor did, after all, occasionally remember to use what passed for his brain.

And yet there was _something,_ something hidden away in the back of Loki’s mind that he dared not reach out for lest he awaken the pain it brought with it. Something that suggested that Thor was being truthful.

The problem was that even considering trusting Thor was going to summon forth an entirely different sort of pain. And Loki wasn’t ready to face that.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Loki abruptly, as much to himself as to Thor. “Whatever trick’s being played on me, by you or Odin or some idiot magician, the end result’s the same. If we’ve really a test to pass, the solution is simple enough. We’re lost in a forest. Clearly, we have to find our way out.”

“All right. And how do you propose we do that?”

Loki looked around them one more time, feeling his uneasiness increase. The forest around them was dank and dark and enclosed, lost in an unnatural shadow that was completely at odds with the single beam of sunlight shining down on them through the lone opening in the canopy of leaves overhead. There was no indication that one direction would be any better than another, no sign that there was any sort of path to follow or course to find.

“That way,” said Loki at last, pointing confidently behind Thor. Thor turned and regarded the trees behind him, which looked no more or less different than everything else around them. “We head that way.”

“How can you tell?” asked Thor, still considering. “It looks much the same as everything else.”

“It looks _exactly_ the same as everything else. So perceptive of you to notice.” Loki jerked his chin towards the trees in the direction he’d indicated. “But that’s the point. If we really have been trapped here by an angry sorcerer, one direction is as good as any other. We’ll be guided where they want us to go.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “And if you’re lying to me about how we got here, then we’ll become hopelessly lost in an entirely natural forest that we’ll have no hope of finding our way out of. So let’s get a move-on and find out which it is, shall we?”

“… All right,” said Thor.

For a moment, all Loki could do was blink in surprise. “I – beg your pardon?” 

“All right,” repeated Thor. “As in, ‘All right, I agree with you, let’s get going.’ I did mention the thing about the deadline, didn’t I?”

“Just like that?” Loki gave a hollow snort of laughter. “You’re going to trust me, just like that?”

“Oh, absolutely not!” said Thor cheerfully. “But the thing of it is, this is your challenge. I don’t see many better options than letting you take the lead.”

Loki tilted his head up. “You’ve said that twice now, that this challenge is ‘mine.’ What makes you so sure?”

Thor smiled at him, infuriatingly. “You told me it was.”

And with that, Thor turned and began walking in the direction Loki had indicated. After a moment of exasperation, Loki gave a low growl of frustration, then hurried after to catch up.

* * * * *

Their progress through the thick underbrush was as silent as it was slow.

Which meant there was plenty of time to think.

Loki had decided to ignore, for now, the concern as to how exactly he had gotten here, if Thor really was telling some semblance of the truth. He ached to turn his mind to what the future king of Asgard might currently be plotting – especially as it related to the current king – but Loki also had no desire to awaken the pain that had shattered through his mind and senses like a bludgeon. ( _Or a hammer,_ some treacherous inner voice whispered.) 

Besides, how he had gotten here was not really the most pressing issue of the moment. The real challenge was figuring out how he was to avoid exchanging one prison for another. Because when he made it free of this forest, he had no intention of being returned to his cell.

And the most likely way to achieve that end, he knew, was to make certain that only he, and he alone, escaped their current surroundings. 

Luckily, the forest seemed inclined to help him. For every two steps of progress Loki made, it seemed Thor only managed one, accosted as he was by roots hooking at his ankles and brambles tangling into his cape. He stumbled over unseen branches no matter how carefully he tried to place his feet, and thorns dragged angry red lines into his arms no matter how wide a berth he tried to give them. 

But if Thor noticed that Loki was making twice the headway with half the effort, he gave no sign. Which meant Loki would need to find other ways of needling the Son of Odin’s good humor.

“Where is it, then?” asked Loki abruptly. They’d been trudging their way through unbroken forest for a quarter of an hour or more in complete silence, their gazes focused on the forest floor to keep from running into fallen trees and wild tangles of brambles -- though such precautions had yet to do Thor any real good.

Loki’s words were so unexpected that it apparently took Thor a moment to register the question. “Where’s – where’s what?” asked Thor, and then Loki momentarily lost sight of him as he walked the other way around an enormous dead bush. Its leaves were long gone, but thorns like dagger blades still jutted out from every angle, and Loki heard a yelp of pain (followed by an annoyed stream of cursing) before Thor rejoined him on the other side. 

Loki waited until the other's mutterings had subsided before speaking again. “Your precious hammer, of course. Where is it?” Loki tapped a finger mockingly beneath his own right eye. “You seem to be losing quite a lot these days.”

“More than you know,” Thor mumbled, then glanced over at Loki and cleared his throat. “But perhaps it would be best if we didn’t bring up recent events.” He indicated his temple. “Wouldn’t want to bring on another attack.”

Loki gritted his teeth, biting back the urge to let loose with a fresh barb. Thor appeared every inch the solicitous sibling, but Loki had the uncomfortable suspicion that it had been a jibe all the same. 

Besides – as annoying as it was to admit – Thor’s line of reasoning was not incorrect.

“Fine.” Loki gestured at his unadorned black and green leathers. “Then perhaps you could at least explain this?”

Thor looked at him again, his gaze sweeping Loki up and down. “Explain what?”

“Apparently the dress code for this menial exercise is that of the workaday-warrior. Is this to add to the humiliation?” Loki held out his arms, frowning in distaste at the practical, simplistic design of the plates at his shoulders and arms. “Keep me from the armor befitting royalty, and leave me looking like a common soldier for the task ahead?”

“The cape’s nice, though,” said Thor, the hint of a smile on his face. Loki snorted.

“I’m surprised you approve. Last I wore such a thing, I was murdering the humans under your protection on your precious Midgard.” Loki watched carefully, and was savagely pleased when he saw the minute flinch move through Thor’s expression, though Thor remained silent. 

Loki raised his hand, palm filled with green light, and snapped his fingers. The cape, plain black armor, and small gold crest vanished, replaced by the finery of his green and gold once more, leather tails flowing behind him like elegantly ragged wings.

“Better,” he sighed, then arched an eyebrow at Thor. “Don’t you think?”

Thor started to speak, then tripped over a large rock he apparently hadn’t seen in the growing gloom. The light had begun to fade, the shadows lengthening in a way that should’ve sent a chill of terror running down Loki’s spine. Instead, he found himself welcoming it.

There wasn’t much, at the moment, that he was interested in examining too closely.

Thor was limping slightly as he caught back up with Loki. He glanced over once more, then finally spoke, his voice mild. “So you’re really going back to that look, are you?”

“Don’t you approve? Such a pity.” 

“Well, I mean, it’s got a sort of ‘royal overlord’ vibe. It doesn’t suit you as much as you think it does, you know.” The last word ended in a faint curse, as he ran face-first into a low-hanging branch that Loki could almost have sworn hadn’t been there a moment ago.

He was too annoyed to enjoy Thor’s discomfort. “What would you know of it?” snapped Loki. “You’ve clearly changed in the year since I’ve last seen you. Perhaps I have, too.” He found himself muttering, before he could stop himself, “You’d know it, had you ever bothered to visit.”

He waited then, watching as Thor’s lips pressed together so tightly they went white. But Thor remained silent. Loki let them trudge on, taking furtive glances at Thor out of the corner of his eye. 

“Why?” he asked suddenly.

“Why what?” asked Thor, and he sounded … exasperated? No. _Tired._

And somehow, that stung worse than anything else. “You never came to see me,” said Loki, and he could hear the sudden ragged pain, raw and red, in his own voice. “Frigga says you never even ask after me.”

Thor twisted his mouth. “Really. Our mother –”

“ _Your_ mother,” Loki corrected with a hiss, and felt something in his stomach twist. He ignored the feeling, looking up into the trees to distract himself. He was surprised to see the midnight silhouette of a bird staring down at him from its perch high above in the overgrowth of branches. The sight of the bird unsettled him, though he could not have said why; it looked to be a perfectly ordinary corvid. 

Perhaps it was because the bird was the first indication they’d had that there was anything in this forest alive besides the two of them.

“Reject who she is to you, Loki; it doesn’t change the truth,” Thor was saying, and Loki dragged his gaze back to him. “She is our mother, and she loved – loves – you.” Thor’s face took on an odd expression, gone as quickly as it came. “Do you expect me to believe she told you I care nothing for you?”

“Well. Perhaps not in so many words. But I know neither you nor Odin have been fussed to ask whether or not I’ve been withering away in my solitary eternity.” 

“Father forbade it,” said Thor heavily. He was rubbing at one of the thorn-torn slashes on his arm, blood oozing along its edges. “We were not even to speak your name aloud, let alone go to the dungeons to visit you.”

“And there it is,” said Loki, disdain dripping from his smile. Thor looked at him, startled. “You promised you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“It’s not a lie.” Thor’s voice was uncertain, and Loki felt the rage he’d been shoving into the hollow of his chest beginning to rise back up towards the surface. 

“Is it not?” Loki stopped to whirl on Thor, and Thor stopped too, nearly falling sideways as his ankle twisted against the loose rocks at his feet. “The King of Asgard may have issued such a command, but since when did Odin forbidding something ever stop you? In _fact,_ ” and Loki jabbed a finger towards the sky in apparent realization, “Isn’t that what got us into this entire mess?”

“You mean, into this forest?”

Loki sneered at him. “Now you’re playing the fool.”

“I’m impressed you think it an act.” Thor shifted uncomfortably, but Loki could see him brace slightly. “But you’re right. Father did forbid it – but that’s not what kept me away.”

“Then what?” asked Loki – and realized, with a wave of unease, that some part of him was burning to know the answer. Burning to know how Thor had been able to move past him so easily.

“Loki.” Thor turned to face him head-on. “When we fought on the Bifrost – when we fought in New York – I-I did so with … with a glimmer of hope that my brother was still in there somewhere. That _you_ were still in there somewhere. But you seemed hell-bent on proving to me otherwise.” Thor smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “I stopped hoping to find you again, because you seemed determined to remain lost.”

“And now?” Loki’s voice felt rough in his throat. 

Thor shook his head. “I don’t think the question now is whether or not I can find you. I think the question is whether or not you’re trying to find yourself.” 

The words seemed to stab at something in his chest. For a moment, he heard a different voice entirely, one that was also soft, and sad, and saying what he did not wish to hear.

_Always so perspective – about everyone but yourself._

“Tell yourself whatever you need to,” Loki said, and the words were painful, coming out sharp-edged against his throat. “Whatever you need to justify turning your back on me.”

“Loki,” said Thor, stepping closer to him, “I never turned my back on you. It was you who turned away from us. You pushed me away – pushed us all away.”

Loki recoiled from Thor’s approach. “Stop it. _Stop_ – stop pinning the blame on me! It was all of you – all of _you_ who couldn’t face the truth of what I was – who couldn't face _me_ ...” 

“And there came a time.” Thor continued, as if Loki hadn’t spoken. He was advancing slowly and inexorably closer, his hands held up in a kind of supplication. “There came a time when we had to stop chasing you. Because every time we tried to reach you, you only ran farther away.”

“Get – get away from me.” Loki kept falling backwards, but he couldn’t seem to get far enough away, couldn’t seem to escape the damn _earnestness_ in Thor’s gaze. 

“And the only reason your family ever stopped chasing you, Brother –” And Thor reached out, gently clasping Loki’s wrist, and the black band around Loki’s arm suddenly burned like fire. “ – is because we wanted you stop running _from_ home, and start running _toward_ it again.”

“ _I said to get_ away _from me!_ ” Loki snarled, and shoved Thor hard. And then there was a sound like breaking bone, like muffled thunder, and Thor was stumbling, sinking sideways as the ground beneath him suddenly gave way. One moment, Thor was standing in the middle of the forest floor; the next, he was falling, tumbling into the sinkhole that had torn open beneath his feet. He landed with a thud; Loki could hear the grunt of pain as Thor hit the bottom of the pit.

It was so unexpected that, for a long moment, all Loki could do was stare at the edge of the hole that had suddenly torn itself into the forest floor in front of him. Silence seemed to echo up from the crack in the earth, and for long moments Loki stood there, breathing hard, his breath ragged in his own ears.

It hadn’t been a far fall, if the sound had been anything to judge by. The idea of an Asgardian warrior perishing from something so innocuous, so _harmless,_ was as ludicrous as it was laughable. And yet if Thor had fallen wrong, had landed, perhaps, on his neck …

_I’ve killed him at last,_ Loki thought to himself, and was so distracted by the sudden hollowness the idea left in his chest that he forgot to wonder at the notion of having enough power to rend a tear in the earth itself.

“ _H-hello?_ ” came Thor’s voice from within the pit, followed a moment later by a hollow coughing. “ _You … you better not have left me behind … j-just like that, you ridiculous ass!_ ”

A wave of relief coursed through him, followed in its wake by a wash of annoyance. Loki walked towards the edge of the hole, and looked down to see Thor – face shining dirt-streaked and bloodied in the waning light of the forest – looking back up at him. Thor was crouching awkwardly, weight held all one on side, and Loki wondered briefly how he’d managed to hurt himself in the fall. 

“I warned you, Thor,” said Loki, and his voice had a waver in it that he instantly hated. “I warned you to stay away from me.”

“Yes,” Thor panted. “Yes, I suppose you did.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Don’t you dare,” Thor began, and Loki gave a hollow laugh.

“You are in no position to give me orders, Son of Odin. Not now. Now it is my turn to pass judgement.” Loki dropped to his knees at the edge of the hole, the better to lean in and make certain Thor could see his face in the waning light. “I sentence you, Thor. To imprisonment for life.” He allowed his face to grow sorrowful. “For however long you may hope for that to last.”

“ _Dammit,_ Loki.” Thor’s teeth were clenched in frustration. “Dammit, don’t do this! Weren’t you listening? If we don’t both find the way out of here, then we are both going to run out of time. And we are _both_ going to die!”

“No, _you_ are going to die, stuck rotting in that pit when your time runs out.” Loki raised his wrist, displaying the writhing black bands of magic. “ _I_ am going to find my way out of this forest, and back to whatever sorcerer threw this challenge in front of us.” He frowned for a moment, considering. “Maybe I’ll let them live, if they teach me how to make such a cunning little countdown spell.”

“Brother,” began Thor heatedly, “It’s not that simple. You cannot escape on your own.”

Loki’s laughter was tinged with bitterness. “‘On my own’ is the only way I’ve ever done anything.”

Lightning was wreathing around Thor’s hand. Loki abruptly rose to his feet, deciding it was time to go before he found out the hard way how far Thor’s range might extend.

“Goodbye, Thor,” said Loki, his voice touched with a mocking sadness. “May Death be more merciful to you than it has been to me.”

Then he turned on his heel and walked away. He strained to listen, expecting to hear Thor calling his name or shouting for him to see sense or even, perhaps, begging for his life – but there was only silence. 

Loki smiled, because it seemed like he should. He was winning, was he not? Should he not be satisfied with this turn of events?

_Satisfaction is not in my nature …_

The pain flared through his temples once more. He winced, then banished the whisper from his mind.

No time for such doubts now.

Above him, the magpie returned to its branch, settling its wings into place along its back as it watched the tall, lean figure trudging away.

And it waited.


	13. Annan Water

It was difficult to tell how long Loki walked, hiking through a forest that was hollow and dark and empty of all life save himself. (Well, conceivably save himself and Thor – though Loki had a curious, almost lightheaded sensation that Thor was beyond his reach now.) The unseen sun seemed locked in a perpetual twilight, the faint dusting of light filtering through the treetops to stop halfway to the forest floor. The trees cast shadows that were long and deep, and more than once, Loki found himself shying away from the darkest of them, as one might avoid a pool of water that could prove deceptively deep. 

From an outsider’s perspective, he supposed he would have appeared to be walking aimlessly – not heading towards points picked out within the forest, nor trying to stick to a straight line, but rather choosing his path based on nothing more solid than whichever direction seemed to suit him in the moment. He walked where it felt right to walk, where it felt safe and secure and unchallenging. He told himself that allowing himself to wander wherever felt most comfortable was a logical method of relying on his magic’s intuition, even though some quiet thought deeper down suggested that going where it felt the most safe and the least demanding was probably not a productive way of passing any type of test, no matter how mundane or idiotic such a test might be. 

He would have conjured a bit of light to help him find his way if he hadn’t been navigating through the underbrush perfectly well without it. It was so odd; he seemed to sense every jutting root and loose rock and fallen branch that lay scattered throughout the wood. It was as if he’d been here before – as if he knew every stone and tree and hill that was to be found. As if the woods were his.

And yet, if that were true, why could he not find his way out of them?

“I’m lost, aren’t I?” said Loki, to the still forest surrounding him.

Admitting the words aloud released the ache of anxiety that had been building somewhere in his chest, a welling of fear that he’d been successfully forcing away until he could contain it no longer. He drew to a stop and took in a ragged breath, feeling as if the air itself was going to choke him. 

The writhing black spell pulsating around his wrist gave a sudden flare, and Loki grimaced, grasping at where the binding burned into his flesh. How much time did he have left, lumbering around the forest with no path and no plan until his time ran out and the spell around his arm sent him bursting into flame? 

“I’m _lost,_ ” he breathed again, and with those words repeated, Loki suddenly found he could no longer breathe at all. He was standing in the center of a small grove, a cluster of willowy trees picking out a clearing, their trunks surrounding him and casting him in shadow. Around him, the forest stretched out in unbroken silence. No approaching footsteps, no rustling of leaves, no cry of animal or human. 

_I am alone,_ Loki thought, and suddenly his mind’s eye flashed an image of Thor, broken and forgotten back in the depths of the pit. Loki had left him behind, and so doing, condemned himself to wandering the forest in isolation. If only he hadn’t – 

But it was too late for that. 

Dizziness moved through him in a wave, and Loki stumbled, catching himself with his hands on his knees. He stayed that way, bent over, trying to breathe deeply and easily, but the panic was coming too quickly now.

_Fool. I’m a fool. I wasn’t alone before but I left him behind and now I am lost and I’m a_ fool …

_“Are you really alone, Foolish Trickster?”_

Loki inhaled sharply. He knew that voice.

He just didn’t remember from where.

He turned slowly, and saw the magpie he’d glimpsed in the treetops earlier. It was now sitting perched on a low branch just a few feet away, putting them more or less at eye level.

“… You,” said Loki, pulling himself upright.

_“Would you know more?”_ The magpie cocked its head, but otherwise remained still. Its voice seemed to be emanating not from the bird, but rather from the surrounding forest itself. And yet Loki had no doubt that it was the creature speaking to him. 

“That depends on what you’re here to say,” said Loki, still wary but without real alarm. Talking animals were not all that shocking to a magician. Especially those animals who were currently taking the form of – 

“Oh, dear,” he sighed then, and swallowed something uncomfortable in his throat. “You’re an _omen,_ aren’t you?” A moment later, he added, almost in a murmur, “I _hate_ omens.”

_“Omens portend the future. I see no farther than you.”_ The bird shifted from foot to foot on its branch. _“But I can help you guard against that which you most fear.”_

“How useful.” It had been too odd of an afternoon for him to wonder at himself for attempting to dryly insult a riddle-speaking corvid. “Considering there’s just you and me in this forest, I’m not so certain your services are much required at the moment. But good day to you all the same.” He gave a little bow, then turned and took a step to walk away.

_“What makes you think this forest is empty?”_

He turned back with an affable smile that reached nowhere near his eyes. “Is there some threat waiting for me out there that I should know about, then?”

_“The forest is filled only with that which you’ve brought into it.”_

“Of course. Well, that’s _marvelously_ cryptic of you; thank you so much for that.” Loki narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer to the bird. “Are you absolutely certain you’re not an omen?”

_“Do not trick yourself, Trickster god.” The magpie shifted from foot to foot. “You are not alone.”_

Loki opened his mouth to protest this, but found himself drawing up short. Because the truth of the matter was that, despite the silence and the stillness and his fear, he _didn’t_ think himself alone. Hadn’t done since he’d turned his back on Thor and left him behind in the pit to rot.

There was something, out in the midst of the trees and gloom. Following him.

Or perhaps lying in wait for him. 

_“Heed me.”_ The bird arched its wings, ruffling feathers into their proper places. _“I will keep you out of trouble. Keep you safe.”_

Loki frowned, feeling just the faintest stirring of doubt. “I’m not so certain that ‘out of trouble’ is the right place for the god of mischief to be.”

Its wings arched again. Could a bird be said to shrug? _“Then prepare to face that which you most fear.”_

He closed his eyes, swaying slightly. “I am …” he murmured, “I am so _tired_ of being afraid.”

_“There is but one other course of action.”_

“And what’s that?” Loki murmured.

_“Find your way home.”_

Loki’s eyes snapped open. “What do you –” he began.

But the creature was gone.

Loki stood staring at the place where it had stood, feeling the pulse of unease building in his stomach.

Then he turned and began to trudge onward.

* * * * *

The forest began to tilt.

Ordinarily, he would’ve said he’d begun to make his way down a gentle slope, but the angle of the trees and the sky behind it were all wrong. It was as if the center of gravity in the forest had shifted, and now he was walking downwards because the ground beneath his feet and the sky above his head were angling that way. The effect was dizzying, and Loki strove to keep his gaze cast downward, concentrating on placing his steps just so, intent on holding his balance, struggling not to slip – to fall.

He’d had quite enough of falling.

The pitch kept gradually increasing, and soon he was clinging to slanted trees as he passed them, fighting to keep from sliding the rest of the way down the slope, to – _what?_ It did not bear thinking about. It occurred to him halfway down that he might be making his way into a trap – not that this whole place wasn’t, in its way, a trap, but perhaps whatever was lying in wait for him was waiting at the bottom of the slope. He glanced over his shoulder, debating trying to make his way back up – only to feel the ground tremble, actually tremble, beneath his feet.

He froze, trembling too, and clutched at the tree he’d slid down to meet. Somewhere within the dark trees overhead, he heard the cry of a magpie.

Downward it was, then.

As he continued to slide and stumble and drop his way along, he became aware of a growing glow emanating up through the dense collection of trees. As the light grew stronger, he saw that it was pulsing slightly, as if it were the heartbeat of the forest itself. 

The slope began to level out. Slowly, he straightened and regained his footing, until he was finally able to walk without clutching onto jutting roots and rocks for purchase. Either the sky had finally darkened, or the approaching light had grown too bright, but the tops of the trees were no longer visible. Instead, his gaze focused on the light within the forest, a soft golden hue that threw shadows in stark relief with every beat. He walked through the thinning trees to reach the edge of a clearing, then came to a dead stop, staring. 

In the center of a clearing stood the most enormous tree he’d seen yet, a thing so monstrous that a dozen Asgardian warriors linking hands would’ve been hard-pressed to wrap their way around it. The light came not from the tree itself, but rather from the massive roots system that wound like knotted tentacles into the earth below. 

Was it Yggdrasil? That felt wrong, somehow. And yet – 

Trembling, Loki stepped into the clearing. The rhythm of light seemed to amplify, sending out pulses along each root – roots, Loki saw now, that snaked out onto dozens of trails surrounding the clearing. Each glowed with a slightly different shade of light, illuminating each trail it lead to like a splinter from the Bifrost itself.

No. Not each trail. Each _pathway._

“And one thing I know,” he murmured to himself, “Is pathways.” 

_“Do you see the path which will lead you home, Foolish Trickster?”_ said the magpie. There was a sudden flurry of motion, and he suddenly became aware of a weight on his shoulder – a weight so familiar, it was hard to believe it had not always been there.

Loki gave a slightly breathless laugh. “Are you sure you’re not an omen?” he asked, trying to quell the rising panic in his chest. 

_“I keep watch against your fears,”_ said the magpie, _“and your fallings. I am shield and dagger, vigilance and escape.”_

“Yes, that’s all very poetic and all, but now would be a most marvelous time to provide some more practical assistance.” He waved a hand at the trees. “Which way out?”

_“It depends on who you wish to be.”_

Loki gave a growl of frustration. As if in answer, the spell on his wrist gave another pulse of fire. “I am going to die if I don’t escape from this forest, little omen. I need to know what to do, not what I am.”

_“But we are what we do, are we not? The choices we make. The actions we take.”_ He could feel the creature fluttering its wings to hold its balance as Loki began to circle the tree. _“Do you not agree?”_

His eyes searched the pulsating roots and the surrounding paths, as if a hint might present itself. “Riddles. I’m going to die and you’re speaking in riddles.” He resisted the urge to reach up and strike the creature off his shoulder. “What should I do?”

_“Find your way home,”_ said the magpie.

Loki looked around uneasily, swallowing a lump in his throat. Dozens of pathways were stretched out around him, pointing in all directions. Which to take? Which was _right?_ Which was the one that would – 

“It’s good to see you again, your Majesty,” said a voice.

Loki jolted, and when he turned to see who was approaching him, his knees nearly buckled underneath him.

Agent Coulson stood before him, smiling warmly.

“Surprised to see me?” Coulson asked. “I know – can’t say I blame you. I’m surprised to be here.”

“How … how can you –?” Loki’s eyes narrowed. “You _can’t_ be here. Not when I –”

“Killed me? Yeah, well, that didn’t quite work out the way either of us figured, did it?” Coulson grinned at him, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. “Lots of things are possible Here. Including you receiving the kingdom that’s rightly yours to rule.”

Loki edged away from him, watching the resurrected mortal the same way one might a circling wolf. “What’re you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? Good grief, haven’t you been paying attention? What’re you here for in the first place? To find your way out again. I’m here to help you do just that.” Coulson stepped closer, spreading his hands in apology. “I would’ve been here sooner, but SHIELD took a lot longer to dismantle than I realized …”

“SHIELD?” 

“Sure. Can’t have a top-secret organization plotting against our new king before he even makes it through the metaphorical front door, can we? Fury, Hill, the Helicarrier – I took care of it all. Everything cleaned up and cleaned out and ready for your arrival.”

“Coulson,” said Loki harshly. “Where do you think you’re taking me?”

Coulson’s brow furrowed behind the sunglasses. “Back to Earth, of course. You won our world fair and square. We’re all awaiting your rule – well.” He chuckled slightly. “You might have to be satisfied with New York, for starters; the rest of the planet will take some convincing. But we’ll get there.” He dropped his voice conspiratorially. “There’s an adjustment period for all new dictators, you know.”

“But I didn’t win.” Loki felt himself growing brittle, as if one wrong word might send his mind snapping apart into pieces. “I _lost._ That was the whole point. I lost the kingdom I’d come to claim for myself, and was dragged away, in disgrace and in chains …”

“Not Here, you weren’t.” Coulson took a step forward; Loki pulled back, keeping the distance between them. “Here, there’s a new kingdom awaiting your rule. Just like you always wanted.” He cocked his head, considering. “That _is_ what you wanted, isn’t it? A throne?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” snapped another voice. Loki and Coulson turned, and Lady Sif came striding down another pathway towards them. “Prince Loki has never wanted _a_ throne; he wants _the_ throne. The throne he was promised, the throne he was held to the standard of.”

Coulson folded his arms over his chest. “And what throne would that be, exactly?”

“The throne of Asgard, of course!” Sif ran towards Loki, dropping to one knee at his feet and placing her fist over her heart. “I come with tidings, my prince – tidings of sadness and tidings of joy. Your father is trapped in the Odinsleep; your brother has abandoned his duties. Leadership falls to you!”

“… Well. Isn’t that just ducky,” Loki managed. He felt feverish, or half in a dream, and could not quite seem to catch his breath. “You seem remarkably pleased by this development, Sif. I would not have thought you so eager to see me on the throne. Either of you, as a matter of fact – especially you, Coulson, considering I ran you through.”

“I did shoot you.” Coulson raised an amused eyebrow over his sunglasses. “I’d say that makes us even, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes, all right, your scores with each other have been settled.” Sif came to her feet, her eyes shining with fervor. “But Asgard has far more need of you than Midgard ever could, Loki. Let the mortals struggle to repair the damages they’ve wrought to their world. Your own people await you!”

“‘My own people,’ is it?” Loki gave a little laugh. “Have you not heard?”

“You speak of your revealed heritage.” Sif shook her head. “It is of no consequence to the citizens of Asgard, my king. _You_ are the chosen heir for the throne. You will not desert us as your brother did, vanishing from sight during our most dire hour of need.”

A vision of Thor’s face – muddied and bruised and bleeding, looking out at him from the depths of the pit – flashed through Loki’s mind. “Asgard will never accept me. Not after what I’ve done. Not after –”

“Your Majesty!” Sif spread her hands wide. “It is you that we fear will not accept us as your subjects. Please, accept your place as our ruler. Leadership is your birthright!”

“His birthright was _taken_ from him by you people,” Coulson snapped. “Twice over. That’s why it only makes sense to choose the throne that you won for yourself, Your Majesty. Come back to Earth. Take the kingdom that you earned.”

Loki stared at them. And then, quite suddenly, he began to laugh. It began as a chuckle, but soon he was roaring, overtaken with a kind of helpless abandon that he knew was close to hysteria but didn’t care to stop. Sif and Coulson gazed at him uncertainly, which only served to heighten his amusement. He laughed until he had to bend over against the ache in his middle, tears squeezing from the corner of his eyes. 

“This – this is _perfectly_ outlandish,” he said, when he managed to speak again. “The dead man I murdered and the friend I betrayed, each coming to coax me to follow them to some golden kingdom and the promise of a throne. As if either of them would entreat me. As if either world would have me.” He turned burning eyes up towards the enormous tree, and was unsurprised to find the magpie gripping the sides of the trunk, looking down at him with its obsidian-chipped eyes. “Do you think me so gullible, little omen? Do you think me such a _fool?_ ”

_“They are not the forest’s doing, Foolish Trickster,”_ came the reply. _“They are your own. Do they not offer you what you want?”_

The laughter died in Loki’s throat. “All I ever wanted was …” He stopped, feeling himself begin to shake.

“Loki –” Sif began hesitantly.

And then suddenly she stopped, her eyes widening, her hand going for the sword at her side. Coulson, too, was reaching for his weapon, and Loki turned, fear roiling somewhere deep in his gut.

Coming down another endless path, the Frost Giant strode towards them. The creature’s blue skin was the flesh of frozen corpses; the ridges on face and chest and arms stood out like twisted scars. The eyes, shining red from within the face as if the sockets were filled with blood, watched Loki with an inscrutable gaze.

“ _No,_ ” Loki whispered, and stumbled back a step. His skin was crawling with his horror, his _disgust_ for the creature. Instinctively, he called forth two daggers, wrapping his hands tightly around the hilts, and lunged forward like a striking snake.

The Jotun leapt back in surprise – if a creature twelve feet tall could be said to leap – landing with surprising grace in a defensive crouch. Loki whirled forward, expecting the Front Giant to block the blade and counter with one of his own.

He did not expect the creature to instead spread his hands in a gesture of calm surrender.

And then speak.

“Prince Loki. Your father has sent us.”

His mind recoiled from the implication. “Odin is not –”

“I speak not of the butcher of the realms.” The Frost Giant pressed a closed fist over his heart and made a small obeisance. “But of _your_ father. Our ruler. King Laufey.”

“That’s … that’s not possible. That isn’t –” Loki glanced at Coulson, and felt his blood grow cold. “Laufey would never send you. He could not. He’s _dead_ – dead and slain by my hand!”

But the Frost Giant only smiled. “No, my prince – not here. Here, he lives, and waits to welcome his son with open arms. Is that not what you have always wanted?”

“Oh, yes. One of you got it at last. You’ve found just what I’ve longed for!” Loki could feel the ugly laughter welling up in his chest again, and forced it back down with an effort. “To be welcomed back to the realm of ice and night, into communion with my fellow abominations. King of Monsters at last!” He stepped closer, hands unconsciously gripping tighter on the hilts of his daggers. “Why do you think I slaughtered your king to begin with?”

The Jotun shook his head. Damn the creature, was that a _smile?_ “Perhaps out There, monsters were all you saw in us. In yourself. But you can be more than that Here. It’s not too late, Your Highness. Come with me.” The Frost Giant stepped closer, extending a hand. “Come back home.”

“Come home –” echoed Sif, reaching out to him.

“Home –” said Coulson, removing his glasses; and Loki saw at once that the man was still dead, eyes glassy and lifeless, mouth held slackly, the flesh of his face waxy, the face of a corpse – 

_“Find your way home,”_ sang the magpie overhead. _“Find your way home, home, home –”_

“I _have_ no home,” Loki hissed, and spun forward, sinking both of his blades into the Jotun’s chest. 

The Frost Giant swayed, his hand coming up to press against the wounds. He looked up from the jutting dagger hilts to meet Loki’s eyes, his gaze filled with such shock that Loki could feel the fury and loathing begin to ebb away, replaced by a terror so all-consuming he nearly choked on it.

The Frost Giant fell to his knees, and Loki stumbled back, his own face filling with a horror he did not understand. _I’m sorry,_ he almost started to say, and then his head exploded in a pain so intense he nearly blacked out.

_“The only way out is through, Foolish Trickster.”_ Loki forced his head up from where he had fallen to a half-crouch and saw the magpie fluttering above him. _“Will you not come home?”_

Another burst of agony flared through Loki's temples. He glared up with watering eyes at the flicker of winged shadow. “Is this your doing??”

_“It is yours,”_ the voice whispered.

Gritting his teeth, forcing the pain away, Loki climbed to his feet. Sif and Coulson stepped back, raising their weapons, their gazes on Loki watchful and hardened. 

“You –” he began hoarsely. But he could not think how to fight, could not think what to say, could only feel the pain pulsing through his head and the forgotten memories pulsing in the back of his mind. Threatening to surface again – 

No. No. He did not want them. He would not allow them. He would not go back to such pain. He would not – 

_“Do you not wish to find your way home?”_

Turning on his heel, he dashed away from the two figures, throwing himself blindly into the shadows of the forest between pathways. He could hear Coulson and Sif calling after him, hear the shrieking of the magpie reverberating through him.

Ignoring the magpie’s echoing dismay, he ran into the thick of the trees, too panicked to notice the way was flat once more. The pulsing light of the clearing faded away behind him, and he was once more in the eternal twilight of the forest, as if he’d never left it. 

But he seemed to have lost his symbiosis with his surroundings. Thorns reached out to snag at his finery; roots reached up like hands to grab for his ankles and twist. A low branch raked against his face, drawing blood; he paid it no heed, only increasing his speed to run faster, feeling the dread increase with each step. It was more than dread, more than anxiety – it was fear, pure blinding terror.

How fast would he have to run to escape it?

The sound of rushing water had been growing steadily louder, but he didn’t become conscious of what he was hearing until seconds before he burst through a final line of trees and saw the river in front of him. He’d been heading unconsciously in that direction because the thinning of trees by the water’s edge meant that the waning sunlight was coming through more brightly, and he needed to see it, needed to find a bit of light to banish the pain and the darkness that had filled his skull when he’d slain the Jotun.

He halted at the edge of the trees, hands clenched into fists at his sides and breaths coming sharp in his chest. Some twenty feet away lay a river, several hundred feet across and rushing with a speed which was alarming. Rapids were churning violently, froths of white foam bubbling across its surface. The sound of it was overwhelming.

On the other side of the river, the land had been engulfed in fog, so tall and so thick that it was impossible to tell what might lay on that side: more forest, or a sparse island, or a silent city lost to the mists. Everything about what lay before him – the clearing just in front of him, the rapids of the river, the hidden shore beyond – shouted out at him to stay away.

_The only way out is through._

Loki darted a glance around him, but the magpie was nowhere to be seen.

His hands clenched around each other. “You’re all right,” he said aloud, because he needed to hear someone, even if it was himself. He could hear the tremor in his voice, but kept speaking anyway, trying to reassure himself. “You’re all right, and everything’s fine, and you got away from that place and everything is going to be all right. You just have to find a way across.”

He gritted his teeth, considering. He could walk along the river and try to find a bridge, or at least a narrower point, but that might take too long – and it was also possible that there was simply no better option, at least not for leagues. 

Or he could turn back, he supposed, turn back and try to find another path that would take him … somewhere. But – 

The sudden crack of a branch rang out through the forest like a shot. A thrill of quicksilver panic shot through him in answer, followed by an echo of pain lancing through his temples.

Darting across the clearing, Loki stopped just at the river’s edge, staring at the hurtling rapids and racing currents. Then he heard another crash from behind him, this one far closer.

“Dammit,” he said, almost conversationally, and leapt into the water.

* * * * *

As plans went, he’d be forced to admit that he hadn’t thought this one out very well. Actually, it would be quite generous to call it a plan.

He hit the water hard, and if the ice-cold water hadn’t momentarily knocked the breath out of his lungs, he probably would have inhaled half the river before he’d managed to fumble his way back into the air. As it was, it took him long seconds of panicked flailing before he managed to break the surface. 

He had just enough time to look around and acknowledge that, firstly, the current had already dragged him a hundred feet from the spot on shore where he’d plunged in – and, secondly, that he was quite possibly in a bit of trouble – before he found himself drug under the water again.

He fought to regain the surface, feeling not so much as if he was treading against the water, but rather as if he was trying to fight off a living thing hell-bent on dragging him downwards. 

_Your own fool fault,_ he thought, as he struggled to make his way back up towards the light. _Diving in with a full complement of armor. The weight would drag you down even in placid waters._

But there was a part of him that knew this not to be true. In this realm, it was not the leathers and metal that was pulling at him, holding him beneath the surface even as he fought to break away. Something seemed to be dragging at him, holding and clutching, weighing him in a way his armor did not. Was there an underwater current, tangling in his limbs, sweeping him ever downward? Or was it the magic of the river itself?

He broke the surface long enough to sputter out a mouthful of water and grasp one more desperate lungful of air, and then he was under again. He thrashed against the force of whatever pulled at him, but now it seemed that the harder he struggled, the more inexorably he was dragged beneath. The water was beginning to thicken, the currents slowing, as if the river were freezing around him. The darkness was growing. Was this impossible river so deep that he’d actually been taken down far enough that the light was dimming? Or was it simply that his vision was beginning to fade as he ran out of air?

_Stupid way to die,_ he thought, and unwisely began to laugh again. Water flooded his mouth and throat and he felt himself sinking further, as if the tendrils of the current were wrapping around his arms and legs and chest and dragging him inexorably downward. 

The pressure on his chest was building. His hands came up only to find thick bands like vines had wrapped around him, squeezing him and pulling him. He fought against the hold, but the strength was draining out of him, and he could no more free himself from it than he could breathe the water. Blackness crept over his sight, and with it the temptation to surrender to it – 

The next thing he became aware of was the feeling of hard earth under him again. He was lying flat on his back, though someone was trying to help him upright, and he struggled to pull himself up so that he could begin to properly choke in earnest. He finally managed a full lungful of air and put it to good use in another round of coughing, water leaking out of him in painful bursts. His throat felt raw and his chest ached. At least the headache was gone.

He’d made it to the other side of the river, just on the edge of the bank. He was dimly aware, through his choking, of the flowing, roiling fog dancing just beyond him, still obscuring whatever mysteries lay beyond it. 

When he finally managed to take several shallow breaths without gagging, he turned burning eyes to the figure crouched beside him. 

“If you’re –” Loki began hoarsely, then immediately began coughing again.

“I have this idea,” said Thor, hair plastered against his head and water dripping from his beard. It was cold, and the words left his mouth in puffs of mist that glimmered in the sunlight. “The idea is that you don’t talk for a few minutes, until you’ve recovered from the near-drowning. How does that sound? Don’t answer that,” he added quickly, “It was rhetorical.”

Loki glared at him through the wet hair hanging in his face, but remained silent. He searched Thor’s face, feeling the barest stirrings of uncertainty move through him. 

“How did I get out of the pit?” Thor said agreeably, apparently reading the question on Loki’s face. “Good question. Wish I had a proper answer for you. The sides of that hole were too smooth to climb at first, but after a few tries, I started to find some handholds that hadn’t been there before. Which I appreciate doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but what about any of this has? And, once I got out, it was easy enough to follow the trail that you’d –”

He cut off because Loki was shaking his head. Thor creased his brow, watching him – and then his expression cleared. 

“Not _how,_ ” said Thor. “You want to know to know _why._ Why I came after you.”

Loki stared at him uncertainly.

“… my guess, Brother?” Thor ran his hand through his short hair, trying to shake some of the water out. “My guess is, when you can figure that out, we’ll be able to get out of here.” 

“S-sentiment,” Loki managed, and Thor gave him a grim smile. 

“Something like that. But you’re going to have to do better than that if you want to get us home.”

_Home._ The single word seemed to hook its tendrils into that closed-off place in the back of Loki’s mind, prizing at the doors, trying to open them. Loki opened his mouth to speak, but the pain suddenly shot through his temples like a dagger. He sagged back, breathing shallowly, and felt a surge of fury roar through him. He’d left Thor _behind,_ abandoned the oaf as thoroughly as he’d abandoned the pain locked safely away in the recesses of his own mind. And now Thor had come back, to drag out that which Loki would have shut away and forgotten. To drag such things back out into the light.

_The same way he dragged you to safety again?_

Loki’s head jerked up, his gaze searching for the nasty little omen. “There’s a creature –” he began hoarsely, and then stopped, clutching at his temples as if he could squeeze the pain out of his own head. Dammit, he didn’t want this, didn’t want this _pain._ Why could he not outrun it? He had tried so _hard_ to outrun it. He could never run far enough, never gain enough distance no matter how hard he tried, and he was so tired, so _tired_ of carrying it – 

_“Hey,”_ Thor said, and Loki was dimly aware that this was not the first time Thor had called to him. “Wherever you’re going, I’m not sure it’s a place you should be right now.”

“Leave me _be,”_ Loki snarled, eyes squeezed shut tight. He expected to hear Thor protest, but the other remained silent. Loki took several deep breaths, letting them out slowly, and waited for the pain to fade.

The silence stretched on, and gradually Loki became aware of how Thor had tensed beside him. He opened his eyes, turning to look at the other.

“Can I ask you something?” asked Thor softly.

Loki watched him warily, but remained silent.

“Why …” Thor seemed to be choosing each word with care. “Why did you jump into the river?”

“I heard the noises of some great hulking brute crashing after me,” said Loki. He meant the words to come out sarcastic, but all he heard in his own voice was exhaustion. “I assumed it meant me harm.”

“So you were running away?”

_I am always running away._ “Come on,” said Loki abruptly, and began to stumble to his feet. Thor reached out to help him, then thought better of it and stood, waiting for Loki to regain his balance.

The two of them stood – Thor silently, Loki panting harsh breaths – and stared into the mist ahead of them.

“We could find a way back across the river,” began Thor hesitantly.

“No.”

“We don’t know –”

“We can’t go back, you fool.” Loki wasn’t certain which of them he was speaking to. “We have to go forward. That’s the way out.”

“How can you tell?”

_Because the only way out is through. Because it’s the last place I want to go._ “I didn’t ask you to chase after me,” Loki snapped. “Turn back if you want; take your chances in the river and the forest. My way lies ahead.”

_Please don’t turn back,_ Loki begged him silently, hating himself for thinking it. _Please don’t leave me alone to –_

“All right, then,” said Thor softly. Without another word, he plunged into the mist, and was enveloped so completely Loki immediately lost sight of him. Loki stood for a moment, heart in his throat, until he heard Thor’s voice coming to him through the fog. _“Are you coming, or not?”_

Taking a shaky breath, Loki plunged in after him.

* * * * *

It seemed only moments later that the miasma began to clear, drawing back in great roiling clouds as if retreating to some far-off lair. As the fog lifted, they could take in their surroundings, and saw that the forest had vanished, leaving them striding across an enormous, rocky crag. Above them stretched the night sky, the stars so bright they could easily make out the stark relief of their surroundings.

And all at once, Loki understood. A chill swept through him, so absolute that, for a moment, he felt nothing else but the cold.

“Someone’s up ahead,” said Thor, peering forward.

“I know,” Loki whispered. 

There was an outcropping of rocks ahead of them, shaped loosely into a kind of clearing, a raised dais standing at one end. On the dais was a throne, and on the throne, there sat the huge, wraithlike figure whose kingdom they now invaded.

As if in a dream, Loki strode forward into the outcropping, coming to stand just at the foot of the dais. He could hear Thor inhale sharply just behind him.

The newcomer straightened in his seat. He looked at Thor appraisingly for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Loki.

And he smiled.

“Welcome back, my child,” said Thanos.


	14. Knocking From the Inside

The crag was on fire.

That was all Loki could think, as he stood staring around him at the eruption of white-hot energy encircling him like flames. Then the wild alarm ebbed slightly and he realized that, of course, of course, it was not fire at all – but lightning.

Thor. Thor, summoning the lightning without Mjolnir.

The god of thunder was roaring, lightning flaring from his hands and chest, energy crashing into the spot where the Mad Titan had been sitting atop his throne – both Titan and throne now engulfed in white fire. Loki remained rooted to the spot, too stunned to move, his eyes wide and his teeth clenching so hard his jaw ached. The lightning raged on, and Loki realized he had never seen Thor like this, never seen him channel such raw power for so long.

Loki knew, even before the lightning faded, that it would not be enough.

When the lightning had vanished and Thor had sunk to his knees in exhaustion, the silence of the stars filling around them once more, Thanos looked down at Thor from his perch atop his rocky throne with a kind of patronizing amusement. “The pleasure is apparently all mine, Asgardian.”

Panting, fists clenching against his knees, Thor looked up to meet Thanos’s gaze. “Forgive me … if I was a bit forward. I’m not certain … _exactly_ how much hell you put my brother through, but … I’m sure it was a lot. Kinda …” He waved a hand absently. “Kinda had a visceral reaction … seeing you just now. No … no hard feelings, I hope?”

The side of Thanos’s mouth pulled up into a smile that made the bottom drop out of Loki’s stomach. “Well. That won’t be for me to decide, will it?” He rose from the throne, stepping down from the dais, and walked towards Loki.

“I _hate_ this challenge,” muttered Thor – but then he looked over at Loki and his face changed utterly. “Loki. Loki, look at me! What happens next is in _your_ hands, Brother. Your hands and no one else’s. You remember that, don’t you?”

Thanos strode past him, giving Thor a casual backhand without breaking stride. Thor fell backwards under the force, groaning, then pulled himself up, bracing himself with one arm against the rocks.

As Thanos approached, Loki dragged his gaze away from Thor and forced himself to look up to the Mad Titan’s face. It was not that he had never expected to see Thanos again; of course he had, of course he had known it always to be a matter of time. It was just – 

“Don’t mind your brother.” Thanos shook his head ruefully. “He knows not of what he speaks.”

“He’s not my brother,” Loki heard himself say. “That was a lie. My – my family, my life with them, it … it was all a _lie._ ”

“A bitter pill to swallow, even for the Lie-smith, is it not?” Thanos cast him a sympathetic smile as he towered overhead, a benevolent father welcoming the return of the prodigal son. “There is many a precious commodity in short supply in this universe – but truth may be the rarest of them all.”

“So I have discovered,” said Loki, and clenched his shaking hands together behind his back.

“But it is not the lies of others that hurt us the most, is it? It is the lies we tell ourselves.” Thanos folded his arms across his chest, a parody of the disappointed parent – but Loki felt himself flinch, for the Mad Titan’s disappointment was not a burden any child of Thanos cared to shoulder. “And you have been telling yourself the biggest lie of all.”

Loki felt his gaze flicker to Thor. Thor stared back at him, still half-crouched in the dust and stones of the rocky crag.

“Even you do not truly understand yourself. You do not understand what you want. The others offered you power, offered you kingdoms and subjects and sworn obedience.” Thanos waved a hand dismissively. “Even I once promised you a throne. But I knew then, as I know now, that a throne is not truly what you seek. Is it?”

“… No,” Loki whispered.

“Brother,” said Thor, wiping at the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, “If you fall for this, even the way you are now – if you fall for _this_ after what we’ve come through so far, I am going to be very disappointed.”

“Stop _calling_ me that,” said Loki, but he could hear the despair in his own voice. Thanos nodded in sympathy.

“He doesn’t understand,” said Thanos softly. “He can’t see it – the truth of it. The truth of you. You don’t want a throne. You simply want a place for yourself. A true family. A true _home._ ”

Loki could feel himself begin to shake. “All I ever wanted –” And suddenly his voice was gone and his throat seemed to crack open and he was weeping, silently and desperately, as if the despair and loneliness and pain were leaking out of him, bleeding out of the cracks of himself that he could no longer hold together.

“There’s no need for pain, my son.” Thanos reached out and cupped a palm around Loki’s shoulder. It was a comforting, protective gesture – and yet Loki was aware it was also an immovable one. “I can give you what you seek. I can give you a place, show you a true purpose. I always could.”

Thor made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Brother. _Really,_ now. Is that what you think Thanos did for you? Is that what you think this illusion can do for you now?” Thor tried to gain his feet, but had to settle for coming into a sort of half-crouch, balancing himself unsteadily on his knees. “Whatever he says, whatever promises he might make – it’s all a trick, you know that. Part of the test.”

“A test, you say?” Thanos mused. “Perhaps not so much a test as a choice. Well, then, Loki of Nowhere – let me offer you something your family of falsehood never did. A _choice._ ”

Thanos snapped his fingers. Behind him, a bright portal appeared, and through it – 

Loki felt his heart sink.

“Loki,” breathed Thor. “Loki, do you see it? That’s our way home!”

“Yes,” Thanos agreed, “The way home. Home to the cell you now call your own in the dungeons of Asgard. Pet prisoner of those you once knew as _Mother_ and _Father_ and _Brother._ A lifetime spent in your pen, with trinkets to amuse you as you while away the centuries. A good little penitent once more. But at least you’ll be with those who once claimed to love you. Who once called you family.”

“Wh-what?” Thor coughed. “Loki, is that what you see? That portal doesn’t lead to a prison. Can’t you see Ord’s gardens, on the other side? It’s the way back – the way _out!_ ”

Loki looked at the portal. Through its wavering white light, he could see the outlines of his cell, gleaming pristine in the dungeons of Asgard – the simple furniture, the pile of books stacked against one wall, the golden forcefield cutting him off from the outside world. Keeping him prisoner. Keeping him forever locked in the box that the universe had made for him, that he had made for himself: Traitor. Murderer. Villain.

Monster.

Loki shook his head, turning back to Thor. “It’s not true. I see the dungeons awaiting me on the other side. You’re lying to me again!”

“No. No, I am not.” Thor took a deep breath, looking at Loki earnestly. “This is your test, Loki – your illusion. The deceptions are there to ensnare you, not me. And what I see is our way out. Our way home. I swear it. And I told you, I _promised_ you – that I wouldn’t lie to you here.” Thor jabbed a finger at Thanos. “Can he claim to do the same?”

“Actually, I can do better than that, Odinson. I can rightly say that I have _never_ lied to the Lie-smith.” Thanos arched an eyebrow at Loki. “Have I?” 

_He will make you long for something as sweet as pain …_ “No,” Loki mumbled. “You have not.” He looked uncertainly from the portal to Thor and back again, feeling something inside him seem to twist.

“The choice is yours, of course,” said Thanos. “Return, if you wish. Take your once-brother and return to the lie that has become your prison. Or – join me.”

“… Join you?” Loki whispered.

“I can offer you a place in this mad universe. As I have done for all of my children.” Thanos waved a hand, and the specters of the Black Order, Ebony Maw and Proxima Midnight and Corvus Glaive, appeared like wraiths behind him. “I found my true cause, a destiny I was meant to fulfill. My children have joined me in bringing this destiny to fruition, and in doing so, my purpose has become theirs. They have found meaning in their existence through their commitment to our cause – and so we have become family, each of us devoted to the same path.” 

“What cause could you claim to fight for?” Thor snapped. Thanos smiled beatifically. 

“Some would call is destruction. I call it salvation. And you, Loki of Nowhere …” Thanos leaned down, putting them eye to eye. “You can claim this purpose and join us. Join _me._ Find your home and your security and your place. Save this universe from itself. Be a savior.”

And then, from somewhere far-off, Loki heard the magpie’s cry.

_“The Savior of Asgard!”_

And a sudden memory rippled through Loki. Standing on the edge of a ship’s platform, arms spread wide, gleaming helmet like a crown atop his head. Except he was not there to claim a throne, but to claim his people. To save them. To be – 

_Your savior is here!_

Pain shot through his head and he cried out, doubling over to clutch his forehead. He dug his fingertips into his scalp, as if he could tear the pain out by the roots. 

“Make it stop,” hissed Loki. Tears leaked from beneath his tightly-closed eyes. “These lies, this – this pain they bring – make it _stop!_ ”

“You’ve always had the power to end the pain.” Thanos gently pulled Loki’s hands from the side of his head. “You have only to make your choice.”

“I – don’t know how.” Loki took a breath, though he felt as if no air was entering his lungs. “I’ve never known how. All the times I’ve tried to run from it – I never find the way out.”

“That is because you have never truly been able to break away.” Thanos pressed something into Loki’s hands, then drew back. “But I can help you start anew.”

Loki looked down, and saw, cradled in his palms, a dagger so long it was nearly a short sword.

“All you have to do is sever your last tie,” said Thanos. “And then you’ll be free.”

“I …” Loki looked down at the dagger. “I don’t understand.”

The smile that spread across Thanos’s face sent a chill through Loki’s blood. “Still you lie to yourself. You know what you have to do.”

Thanos stepped to one side, and beyond him, still bracing in a half crouch – was Thor. 

The dagger in Loki’s hand felt suddenly colder, with a weight it had not held a moment before.

Thor came to his feet slowly, grimacing as he pressed a hand to his ribs, the other hand wiping at the blood still trickling down the side of his face. His good eye gazed steadily at Loki, not frightened, not angry, not pleading. He was simply watching and waiting to see what Loki was going to do.

“Kill him, and your memories of your once-family will be extinguished,” said Thanos. “You will feel nothing, for you will remember nothing of them – not their lies, not their betrayal, not their rejection. Is that not freedom?”

Loki began to laugh, the sound coming from his throat harsh and painful.

Of course. Of _course,_ it came to this. 

“Which is it to be, Asgardian?” asked Thanos. “A return to your prison? Or true liberation, at last?”

Loki stared down at the dagger clutched in his hand. Then he forced himself to look up, to look Thor in the eye.

And harden his heart.

_It has to be this way. It’s the only way to free myself –_

“This was inevitable, you know,” said Loki, and some small corner of himself was remotely pleased that he managed to speak without his voice shaking. “One of us was always going to kill the other. It was destined the moment Odin took me from that abandoned temple in Jotunheim. This is the way it always had to be, don’t you see?”

Thor said nothing. Tired lines were etched into his face, and the set of his mouth was grim – but his shoulders were squared, his good eye glittering with an emotion Loki could not place.

“That’s not to say I wanted this to happen,” said Loki, and began to walk towards Thor, the dagger heavy in his hand. “It’s your doing, really. If you and Father had just left me alone on Earth, none of the rest would’ve happened. You had eight other realms to rule. Could you not leave me one?”

Still Thor was silent. Loki felt his frustration beginning to bubble over. Even now, would Thor not acknowledge his own fault in all this, not acknowledge the pain he had caused? “I tried not to involve you, you know. I tried, at the beginning, to leave you to your life in exile on Midgard. It was your friends who forced the issue, coming after you and ruining everything. And then you just wouldn’t _stop_ – wouldn’t stop chasing me. Why could you not stop _chasing_ me?”

Thor just looked at him.

“Dammit, _answer_ me,” Loki snarled – or tried to, but he could hear the desperation in his voice. He tightened his grip on the dagger, standing before Thor with pounding heart and aching head. “Why, damn you?? Why could you never just let me escape?”

At last, Thor spoke. “Tell me first, Brother – the truth of it. What are you escaping _from?_ ”

Loki froze, the words caught in his throat. Or was it that he did not know how to answer?

No. No, it was because he had answered so many times, and no one seemed to hear him.

Perhaps he had never truly heard himself.

_Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night –_

_I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness –_

_I was merely giving truth to the lie that I had been fed my entire life, that I was born to be a king –_

_“But you could be_ more,” sang the magpie.

The agony lanced through his temples, worse than ever before. For a moment, he blacked out. Then he was on his knees, one hand grasping at his temple, the other still clutching the dagger. His vision had gone dark, and he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force back what was threatening to surface.

When his eyesight cleared, he found Thor crouching in front of him, his face filled with a touch of sympathy – but, also, an odd understanding. “Memories are trying to come back, aren’t they?”

“M-memories?” Loki panted.

“The ones this place took from you. The ones you’re trying to forget, because they hurt so much. Memories of what we lost – and what we found.” Thor shook his head. “I understand, Brother, believe me. It’s hard to feel that much pain. Much easier to run away. But here’s the problem.” He reached forward and grasped Loki’s forearm, heedless of the dagger still clutched in Loki’s hand. “ _You can’t outrun it._ ”

Loki felt something in his chest fracture just slightly. He looked at Thor, speechless, eyes searching Thor’s gaze.

“Still you hesitate, Asgardian?” Thanos was approaching slowly, deliberately. “Do you wish to keep this pain that torments you so?”

Loki stared between them, the dagger in his hand trembling.

“I am …” He closed his eyes. “I am so _tired._ ”

“Then end this,” said Thanos. “Once and for all. End his life. And come home.”

Loki forced himself to his feet, trying to steady himself. Trying to – no. Impossible.

Was Thor _smiling?_

“Do you know why I won’t stop calling you ‘Brother’?” Bloodied and bruised, cradling one arm to his chest, Thor’s voice was nonetheless calm and conversational. Filled with a warmth Loki did not understand – did not deserve. “I won’t stop because I promised you that I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Don’t listen to him,” entreated Thanos. “Your true family is here for you now. This pretender can offer you nothing but lies and imprisonment.”

“And that means,” said Thor steadily, “that means that I can call you nothing else. Because you, Loki – you are my brother. You always have been, and you always will be. Nothing will ever change that, not even you. No matter how hard you try.”

“Do it,” Thanos growled. “Destroy him, and destroy your pain! What are you waiting for?”

“Your choices have been what have imprisoned you, Brother,” said Thor, as if Thanos had not spoken – as if the Mad Titan was not even there. “Your _choices_ are what had taken you away from home. But that means you can choose to come back.”

“Don’t listen to him,” said Thanos. “He wants to return you to the dungeons of Asgard – and this time, you’ll be trapped there forever. Trapped with your pain and your hatred, monstrous and alone. There will be no escape.”

“There is no cell awaiting you. Not anymore.” Thor struggled to his feet, one arm held against his side. With the other, he gestured towards the glowing portal. “The path ahead is not your prison. It’s the way out. You can’t see it through your hurt – but I can. Trust me.” Thor’s smile was pained and tired and no less brilliant. “Brother, trust me. And come _home._ ”

Loki cast his eyes to the stars above. He was unsurprised to find the magpie, hovering just over his head, wings arcing lazily through the air to keep it afloat.

_“Do you see the path which will lead you home, Foolish Trickster?”_

“Come to watch me destroy myself, little omen?” Loki asked bitterly in reply. “What do I do? How do I know who to trust?”

 _“I see no farther than you,”_ said the magpie. _“Would you know more?”_

“Of course I would,” Loki snapped. 

_“Then you must not trick yourself, Trickster God. You must remember.”_

A stab of pain shot through his temples. Loki winced, squeezing his eyes shut in pain – and understood.

“It will cost me,” Loki called to the magpie, opening his eyes. Thor and Thanos watched him in silence – Thor desperate, Thanos furious. “It will hurt me.”

 _“The only way out is through.”_ The creature twirled in midair, and one eye shone with a glint like a wink. _“Will you not come home?”_

And the magpie vanished.

Loki stepped towards Thor, the dagger tight in his hand.

“Brother?” said Thor hesitantly. 

“Do it,” said Thanos. “End this, my son. This may be your last chance for freedom.”

Loki looked at him and smiled.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I think you’re right about that.”

His hand opened, and the dagger slid from his grasp, dropping to the rocks below. Taking a breath, steeling himself, he raised his hands to his temples, closed his eyes – and called forth the spell to slide into his own mind.

The pain was immediate and excruciating. It was the same spell he’d cast upon the Valkyrie – but then, he’d had only to draw forth the memories she’d never truly forgotten. Now, his magic was warring with another’s spell, a spell cast upon him to hide his memories away – and this countermagic was as strong as his own. His own spell prized into the deepest recesses of his mind, wrenching them apart – trying to peel back the layers and force out what was hidden. His teeth gritted and his fingertips dug into his temples, feeling as if his head was being turned inside out.

_“The Queen is dead.” – “No more illusions.” – “I wish I could trust you.” – “You know this plan of yours is going to get us killed.” – “All I ever wanted was you and Odin, dead at my feet!” – “I’ll tell Father what you did here today.” – “Your mother, she calls me. Do you hear it?” – “I love you, my sons.” – “Kneel, before your queen!” – “Have I said enough?” – “I thought the world of you. I thought we were going to fight side-by-side forever.” – “You could be more.” – “Welcome home –”_

“Loki!” Thor was shouting. _“Loki!”_

Loki was on his knees, clutching his head as if trying to keep it from splitting apart. Dimly, he was aware of Thanos howling, of Thor still calling his name – and then Thor was grabbing him, pulling him half to his feet, staggering them forward to the glowing portal. Loki could not find his feet, could not do anything but grasp at Thor and allow himself to be drug towards the door, towards the vision of his cell on Asgard, waiting for him – 

No. Not his cell. He looked with watering eyes at the shining tear in space before them, and through it, he could make out the greenery and flowers and the shining sunlight of the Gardens of Ord. 

_The Garden. Ord._ The portal led the way not to his cell, but to the Rune – the Mayor – Nonesuch. The way home.

It had never been his prison at all.

“Betrayer!” Thanos was crying, advancing towards them. _“Monster!”_

“T-time – to go,” Loki panted, and Thor tightened his grip around Loki’s shoulders, and dove them both for the portal.

In the instant before they were swallowed up in white light, he heard the magpie’s call.

_“Find your way home.”_

* * * * *

“Loki?” came Thor’s voice, hesitating. Loki forced open his eyes.

They were once more in the gardens of Ord. The soft perfume of flowers drifted by on a light breeze; gentle sunshine suffused the air with warmth. Greenery of every kind stretched in all directions, soft and soothing, banishing the memory of the rocky crag, and the Mad Titan standing unmoving against the vacuum of space.

Loki shuddered.

He was lying on the red bench they’d found in the garden before, putting him just above the currents of slow-moving blue mist flowing over the garden paths. Thor was hovering over him, a worry line etched into the center of his brow. 

“Are you all right?” Thor hesitated, then seemed to steel himself. “– Brother?”

Loki reached up, and Thor, thinking he meant to stand, put a hand to Loki’s shoulder to help. But then Loki was grasping onto Thor’s arm, pulling him forward. 

Hugging him desperately.

“I’m sorry,” Loki heard himself say. “Brother, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry –”

“Loki –” Thor was still in a half-crouch, back bent awkwardly, but he put his arms around Loki and squeezed him tight. “It’s all right.”

“It’s not. It’s _not._ Everything I said to you in there, everything I _did,_ I’m sorry, I’m so _sorry_ –” Loki was clutching onto Thor as if he were still drowning, as if Thor could pull him back out of some abyss he’d so recently teetered on the edge of.

“Loki.” Thor pulled back far enough to try and catch Loki’s downcast gaze, though Thor kept his hands steady on Loki’s shoulders. “It’s all _right._ Everything that happened – it wasn’t your doing. It was all part of the test. And you passed it, with flying colors.”

But Loki could only shake his head, his lips pressed together so tightly they were white. Thor squeezed his shoulders once more, reassuring, then moved to sit beside him on the bench. For a long time, they stayed that way, Loki shaky and breathing shallowly, Thor watching him.

At last, Loki sagged back against the red slats, running a pale hand across his forehead. His gaze drifted down, only to catch sight of his old breastplate and armor.

“… _Damn,_ ” he whispered, and had to clear his throat before continuing. He looked over at Thor awkwardly. “It all – really happened, then. Didn’t it?”

“If you call being sent through the wringer by a bunch of magical illusions _really happened,_ ” said Thor, “then yes, I suppose it did.” Loki’s sudden rush of nausea must’ve shown on his face, because Thor quickly added, “But they were all a bunch of magical illusions. Including you, in your way. None of that was _you,_ Brother.”

“It was once,” said Loki heavily. He swallowed hard, remembering how it had felt – how it had felt to go back to that wallowing, that self-loathing, that spiraling despair. To be drowning, once again. “And it was – it was so easy to fall back into it.”

Thor raised an eyebrow at him. “‘Easy’? You really going to try and say that anything about that was easy?”

“You know what I mean.” Loki shifted miserably, squeezing his eyes tightly against the last flare of headache still working its way out of the tension in his temples and neck. Mind magic was really never playing fair, in his opinion – best used only by those that actually knew what they were doing with it, such as, say, the god of mischief. Others really had no such business tampering with it, even uppity Elders getting all high and mighty about their magical tests and trials – 

“Yes, I know what you mean,” Thor was saying. “But since you didn’t let me blame myself for what my challenge put me through, I’m hardly going to let you blame yourself for yours.”

“But –”

“But, nothing. It wasn’t just illusions of others you had to face – it was illusions of yourself. A version of you that you no longer are – lying to you, trying to take away everything you’ve earned, how far you’ve come. You had the chance to leave it all forgotten, too – to grasp at all the things you once looked to for protection. And you chose to remember and reclaim yourself, despite the pain – despite the risks.” Thor quirked a smile at him, slinging an arm round Loki’s shoulders. “I’m proud of you, Brother.”

Loki was silent, looking out at the tiny white daffodils stretched out on the other side of the misty blue path before them. The stinging in his eyes could’ve been tears or it could’ve been exhaustion – or perhaps it was a combination of both.

“Why did you trust me?” Loki asked suddenly, still not looking at Thor. “You kept following my lead, kept letting me make the choices. Kept trying to talk me into finding my way back. It was dangerous. I wasn’t myself, I wasn’t – I wasn’t who I am now. There was no guarantee I’d choose the path I did. You could’ve been killed.” He held back something thick in his throat. “I could have –”

“It was easy,” Thor broke in, apparently so that Loki would not have to continue. “I knew that the _you_ you are now was still in there somewhere.”

Loki blinked at him. “How, exactly?”

“The headaches,” said Thor. “The first time I asked you if you remembered how we’d gotten into that forest, you got your first attack. So I knew you hadn’t actually been turned back into a former version of yourself – your memories had just been locked away. They were still in there somewhere. You were still in there somewhere. And so I trusted you to come back to yourself.”

Loki smiled grimly. “There was no guarantee that’s how I would choose.”

“If there’d been a guarantee,” said Thor, “I wouldn’t have needed to trust you then, would I’ve?”

“… I suppose not.” Loki sighed, settling back once more against the bench. He was silent for several moments then, trying to build his courage to say it aloud. “It … it hurt.”

Thor looked over at him.

“Changing,” said Loki. “Choosing to – to feel, everything there was to feel. Not just the headache,” he added hastily. “I mean –”

“I know what you mean,” said Thor. He raised an eyebrow. “So tell me. If it hurt you so, why did you choose it?”

Loki folded his hands in his lap. “Because it hurt more to stay the same.”

Thor nodded, quirking a smile. “Been there.” He turned and gave Loki’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m _proud_ of you.”

“Thank you, Brother,” said Loki quietly. “Thank you ... for not giving up on me.” _For never giving up on me._

They sat in silence then, and Loki could feel the last of the tension bleeding out of him. He felt more solidly himself again – if ridiculously tired. Drained. He closed his eyes and tilted his face up towards the warmth of the unseen sun, wondering if there was any possible way there was time for a nap before the final challenge.

“If this was more than you bargained for,” said Loki suddenly, eyes still closed, “I’m sorry.”

Silence from Thor for several heartbeats. Loki swallowed hard, suddenly certain his brother would agree – that this was too much, too rash a plan, too – 

“I get myself arrested and put on trial, and _you_ step in – of your own accord! – and come up with a plan to get me out of it,” said Thor. “And you’re asking me if I think said plan is proving too much of an inconvenience?”

Loki chuckled quietly, and opened his eyes at last. “As your friendly neighborhood agent of Chaos, this is – rather my jam. I just wondered –”

Around his wrist, the burn of the restraint suddenly flared white-hot. Something wet was running down the inside of his sleeve. He raised his arm and saw a streak of blood coming from beneath the writhing black band. Thor looked over at him, his own face grim as he held up his wrist, the flesh beneath red and beginning to blister.

“Looks like that conversation will have to wait. We’re running out of time.” Loki massaged his hand above the restraint, wishing he could ease the sting of it. “And we’ve still got one door to go.” He looked over at Thor. “You ready?”

“To face down whatever Hel comes next? Oh, sure.” Thor’s face was lined with exhaustion, but his smile was as warm as ever. “We’ve gotten the hang of it now. Last round should be a piece of cake, right?”

Loki flashed his own tired grin. “That’s the spirit.” He came to his feet, then looked down at himself and grimaced. “Just a moment.”

He snapped his fingers, and the old finery melted away, replaced with his new black leathers and green cape. He smoothed a finger over the small gold emblem at his chest, straightened the cape at his shoulders, and sighed – not with satisfaction, but contentment.

_I am myself, again._

“All right,” he said quietly. “Let’s go.”

He helped pull Thor to his feet, his brother grimacing at the aches and pains from his fall into the pit and his encounter with the illusionary Thanos. Then they slowly made their way back down the mist-clogged path. The final door seemed to loom up to greet them, curiously dark against the late-afternoon sunshine that filled the rest of the garden. In the door’s center was the carving of the skull, its empty eye sockets seeming to watch them approach.

Thor grimaced as they stood at the edge of the path, studying the grinning skull. “There really isn’t any way this can be a good sign, is there?” His voice didn’t make it a question.

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Loki evenly. Thor looked at him in surprise.

“Faking your death is not the same as _cheating_ death, you know.” Thor raised an eyebrow. “You’re not getting cocky, are you?”

“Brother, I’m surprised at you.” Loki took a breath, let it out slowly. “It’s never been a question of _cheating_ death. After all, Death itself is the cheat.”

An odd expression crossed Thor’s face. “What do you mean?”

“Later. Now, c’mon.” Loki raised a hand. “We’ll open the last one together, eh?”

He expected Thor to argue at last – to point out that they’d been doing best when one of them was unaffected enough to guide the other through, for Thor to insist that he take the final burden of whatever was left for them to face.

But Thor only smiled in return. “Together, then.”

Loki reached his hand towards the doorknob, then waited for Thor to grasp hold. He took a breath, bracing himself, and gave his brother a nod. 

Together, they swung open the door, and were drawn into the light.

* * * * *

“Did it … did it work?” asked Thor.

They were standing in Ord’s garden, on the other side of the mist-filled path, in the place where the trio of doors had once stood. The last door, like the others, had vanished.

“It all … _seemed_ the same this time,” said Loki slowly. “Same white light, same sensation of being pulled somewhere. I don’t understand why we’re still in the garden.”

“Because this time,” said a new voice, jolting Loki and Thor around, “You aren’t traveling to the test. This time, the test travels to you!”

The speaker smiled at them. At a quick glance, he could almost have resembled Odin with his white hair and white beard and lined face. He was dressed in robes of white and red, though that was hard to notice in the face of the thick vines and twining leaves woven around him – twisting around his wrists and forearms, encircling his throat, braiding through his shoulder-length silver hair. He held a crimson staff, the top of which was bent into a shape that didn’t quite allow the eye to focus on it – a fourth-dimensional bit of geometry. The man’s eyes were glowing white, giving his smile a somewhat unsettling appearance.

“You’re him,” said Loki, blinking. “You’re –”

“Ord Zyonz,” said the Elder, giving a small bow. “At your service. Call me the Gardener, if you like; everybody does. And may I say that it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Loki of Asgard,” said Loki, by way of introduction. “And my brother, Thor, king of Asgard.” 

“Impressive credentials,” said the Gardener. “Though not as impressive, if I may say, as your accomplishment in reaching this, the final challenge. You’re the first to make it this far, you know.”

Thor looked startled. “You mean that other people have made it into these gardens? Others have tried to gain the Rune?”

“Tried and failed,” said the Gardener. “Nobody’s ever made it past the first challenge before. I expect –” And here he raised a finger. “I expect that’s because nobody’s ever teamed up before to try and win the prize. The previous players all came here alone.”

“Interesting.” Thor shifted uncomfortably. “And … what exactly happened to those who, er, never made it past the first challenge?”

“Oh, nothing, really. Nothing, in the most literal sense of the word.” The Gardener idly toyed with a strand of ivy curling over his chest. “They’re still trapped within the illusions their minds fashioned for them, unwilling to let go of the fantasies they’ve created.”

“Unwilling?” murmured Loki. “Or unable?”

The Gardener turned piercing white eyes towards him. Then he suddenly chuckled. “Yes, it is a bit harder to find your way through the thicket without a helping hand, isn’t it? Smart of you young men to figure that out. Now.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I suppose you’re ready for your last requirement?”

Thor smiled a bit weakly. “Since we’ve made it this far, I don’t suppose you could just hand over the Rune of, er, _You,_ and then call it a day?”

The Gardener chuckled again. “You have an excellent sense of humor, my boy. Never lose that.” He stepped towards them, and Loki braced himself, resisting the urge to step back and place some distance between himself and the Elder. “Although, if it’s any consolation, the time of testing is done. This isn’t about a test. It’s about payment.”

“Payment?” echoed Thor. He glanced over at Loki, but Loki’s gaze was fixed on the Gardener. 

“Oh, yes,” said the Gardener, and he began to pace slowly in front of them, twisting the staff in his hand with a thoughtful air. “The first two challenges were merely to see if you were … _worthy,_ shall we say.” He winked at Thor, with an expression that set Loki’s teeth on edge. “Worthy of being entrusted with something as valuable as this Rune. But now that you’ve proven that to be so, the final hurdle is merely to offer a trade. Oh!” He stopped, gesturing between the two of them. “This should be a good deal easier for you, since there _are_ two of you. Which of you is it to be?”

Loki and Thor glanced at each other. “What do you mean?” asked Loki, trying and failing to keep the uneasiness from his voice.

“Ah, yes! I should explain.” The Gardener grinned, looking elated. “If I am to award you the prize of the Rune, it seems only fair that I should receive something of like worth in return, does it not?”

“I suppose,” said Thor hesitantly. “But –”

“Of course!” cried the Gardener. “So the trade is simple. You come seeking an artifact that will allow you mastery over time? Then it is Time I ask for in return.”

Loki frowned, confused – and then he saw the gleam in the Gardener’s eyes, and he understood.

And his heart sank.

“I don’t –” began Thor.

“It’s simple!” The Gardener grinned. “One of you must pay me with your time. That is to say – with your life.”

“What?” Thor whispered.

“No need to fret! As I say, payment is only required from one of you. So only one life needs to be sacrificed.” The Gardener clapped his hands. “So! Which of you is it to be?”


	15. The Inward Eye

_“Oh,_ come _ON!”_ Thor yelled.

The Gardener smiled beatifically. “Yes, it _is_ rather a good plot twist on my part, is it not? No easy task to come up with a final challenge that manages to outstrip the other two in terms of pathos, you know. But I think self-sacrifice is always a solid direction to go in. Now.” He wagged a hand between the two of them. “Are your minds already made up as to which of you it is to be? Or would you like a moment between yourselves to decide?”

“Now, wait – you can’t – just _hold up_ a minute!” Thor sputtered. “Just wait one damn minute. This challenge makes no sense!”

The Gardener frowned in positive disappointment. “You don’t approve?”

Thor’s eyes flashed electric-white. Loki winced, stepping forward to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder – but a moment later, Thor had gotten ahold of himself. “I am talking about _logic,_ ” said Thor then, through gritted teeth. “How can you ask one of us to die? You said we were the only contenders to ever try for the Rune together. What if someone had made it to this third test by themselves? What then?”

“Then they would’ve had to offer their life in forfeit to the Rune, and so never had the chance to wield the prize,” said the Gardener. “As I said! You were clever to work together.”

“That,” said Thor, teeth still grinding together, “Is ridiculous. Not to mention _unfair._ You made the challenges impossible for any one person to complete!” 

“What can I say?” the Gardener shrugged. “My Rune, my rules.”

“Your rules, eh?” snapped Thor. “What about when we leave this place? My brother and I are already captives of another. We came to get the Rune to win our freedom – and our lives.” He held up his bloodied wrist, the binding glowing darkly. “Both of us must return to our captor together, or the deal is forfeit.” Thor’s voice was harsh. “If one of us dies here, the other will die in punishment for returning alone. What then?”

Ord shrugged. “I need your time, not your corpse. One of you can lug the other’s body back to prove you’re obeying the letter of whatever deal you made with your jailer.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Though I must say, I’m somewhat displeased to hear you’re planning on putting my precious magicks in the hands of another. These challenges are meant to determine that the new owner of the Rune is worthy to bear it. Your plan to simply give it away is … _annoying.”_

“Is that so?” Thor nodded in mock seriousness. “Well, then, since you disapprove of our plans, and we disapprove of your methods – how about we all forfeit the whole thing? Send us on our way without the bloody thing and we’ll call it square. You’ll keep the prize, we’ll keep our lives, and no one has to play any more of this ludicrous game.”

“‘Ludicrous,’ eh?” The Gardener sniffed, his face twisted into a moue of disappointment. “I must say I’m tempted to deduct points for the poorness of your attitude, young man. It’s only lucky for you that there’s no resigning this late in the game.”

“Oh, yes, there is.” Veins of lightning were beginning to wreath around Thor’s clenched fists. “One way or the other, you are going to let us out of this madness, right now, or I’m afraid I’m going to have to –”

“Thor,” said Loki lightly, “He is an _Elder._ You’ll have as much luck trying to incinerate him as you did the illusion of Thanos. Less, really.”

“If you have any other ideas,” said Thor, and beneath the anger, Loki could hear the thread of desperation in his voice, “I’d be delighted to hear what they are.”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” The Gardener clapped his hands together. “I appreciate the concern and the criticism, but we’re really rather past all that. This is a choice you can neither fight nor trick your way out of. One way or the other, payment must be made. It remains only for you to decide which of you will pay it.”

Thor’s hands were clenched fists at his side. “No. _No!_ You cannot expect us to simply agree to –”

“If you would be give us a moment?” said Loki politely, giving the Gardener a half-bow – and then he promptly grasped Thor by the shoulders, propelling him a good ways away across the field of flower beds, Thor keeping up a string of hissing complaints as they went. The Elder watched them go, an amused smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. 

“– And the people in power around here are the most _asinine_ asshats that I have ever had the misfortune to meet,” Thor was muttering, as Loki drew them to a stop. “I cannot _believe_ there hasn’t been a revolution yet; we’ll have to see if we can talk Korg into handing out some pamphlets to get the idea going. And where the hell were _you_ back there?”

“Beg pardon?” asked Loki mildly.

“Where. _Were._ You?” repeated Thor, clipping off each word. “I’m trying to argue for our freedom and our _lives_ here, Brother. Didn’t you care to chime in? You seem remarkably unconcerned given the fact that this madman is asking for one of us to –”

Thor’s voice died in his throat. His face was filled with such anger that Loki couldn’t hold his gaze. He looked instead out across the flower beds that now surrounded them, here at the edge of the garden proper. White and golden daffodils stretched out towards the vanishing point and beyond it, growing indistinct from the sunlight that suffused the horizon.

“You knew,” said Thor. His voice was shaking with rage. “Damn your eyes, you knew. You _knew_ that this was the final test!”

“I – I wasn’t certain.” Loki turned back towards him but still couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Thor’s gaze fully. “It was just a hunch. Although,” he added, almost to himself, “It’s true that asking for a sacrifice is a fairly typical requirement of magic in most –”

“I promised you I wouldn’t lie to you.” Thor’s voice suddenly cracked, and Loki felt something in his chest tighten in return. “Can you not do the same for me?”

Loki raised his gaze to meet Thor’s and smiled. It was a sad smile, but he was still surprised at how easily it came. “Quite right too, Brother. I’m sorry. But –” and he rocked on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back. “For what it’s worth, the truth is that I really didn’t consider the possibility that it would come to this until I first saw the emblem of the skull. And I didn’t think there was any point in telling you what I thought it might mean; why worry you when I couldn’t be sure and there was nothing we could do about it anyway? We were already in the garden; it’s not like we could’ve just walked out again. The way out would stay closed to us until we’d opened all three of the doors that –”

“Don’t. _Don’t._ ” Thor’s fists were clenching against at his side. “That’s not the only reason you hid the truth from me, is it? And Brother, I swear to you: if you dare, if the thought even crosses your mind –”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I am insulted you still consider me predictable. You don’t know what I’m thinking, thank you very much.”

“Yes, I do. You’re thinking you’re going to give that madman what he wants.” Thor grasped his forearm, hard. “Loki, this whole thing began as my mess. If there’s really no way out of it, I am damn well going to be the one who accepts the consequences.”

“No,” said Loki. “You are not.”

Thor gave a harsh chuckle, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re going to stop me?”

“Oh, Brother. When will you learn?” Loki flashed him a grin. “I already have.” 

Thor was standing too close; Loki could not enjoy the added bonus of waving the remote device under his brother’s nose, for doing so would’ve risked Thor stopping him. So he had to settle for pressing the button with the device still behind his back, and letting the energy surge from the obedience disk do his gloating for him.

“Got it on your shoulder blade when I was dragging you over here,” said Loki conversationally, as he stepped over to where Thor had dropped like a stone and was now clenching teeth and fists and shoulders and glaring at Loki through the waves of energy coursing through him. “Thought it might come to this. I have to thank you for giving me the idea in the first place; you really are an excellent Trickster yourself at times, Brother. You know that, don’t you?”

Was Thor trying to say something? No matter. “I want to be clear,” said Loki, crouching down so that he could look Thor more readily in the eye. “This is not about what I think I owe you. I’m not trying to make amends for past mistakes. This isn’t about my penance. This is about my promise. And I promised you I was going to get you out of this, Brother. Do you remember?”

It took supreme effort to manage speech while under the effects of an obedience disk. Loki knew that better than most. So he was impressed when Thor managed to spit out the single word. _“B-both.”_

Loki creased his brow, frowning. Then his expression cleared. “Ah, yes. I did say something about getting the _two_ of us to safety, did I not? I assure you – that’s still very much the plan. But,” and he kept his voice light, “If I’m not able to manage it, _I_ am damn well sure going to give you the best odds I can, and that means keeping you from sticking your nose into proceedings. Now! Hang tight, and I’ll turn this off just as soon as I’m certain it’s too late for you to interfere.” 

He did not wait for Thor to attempt to answer, simply came to his feet and made his way back across the field of daffodils. The Gardener was waiting for him, arms folded, hands tucked into his sleeves, staff crooked into the corner of one elbow. Any impatience he’d carried before seemed gone; now there was a cool serenity about him that Loki should’ve found reassuring. Instead, it simply reminded him that there was most certainly truth in what the Elder had said: to reach the goal, a sacrifice had to be made. This was not a situation one could trick their way out of. 

Well. Loki had always enjoyed a challenge.

“So it’s to be you, then,” said the Gardener, eyeing him. “It’s the other one who’s whispered through the universe as a hero. Are you sure you’re up to this?”

Loki flashed a grin that bared slightly more teeth than perhaps strictly necessary for a wholly friendly smile. “I’ve stopped concerning myself recently with what the universe has to say about me. I know who I am.”

“Really?” The Gardener raised an eyebrow. “And who is that?”

“I am _myself.”_

“Hmph.” The Gardener looked almost to be suppressing a smile. “Suppose you were paying some attention through my trials after all.”

“Oh, not just through yours. Fate has been quite handy about handing out the lessons as of late. But –” Loki jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’d really like to stop sending energy jolts through my brother as quickly as possible, so if we could possibly get on with things?”

The Gardener’s smile deepened. Raising one hand, he twisted his fingers through the air, tracing the lines of a sigil so complex that Loki’s mind began to spin as his eyes tried to follow it. The sigil formed in midair, glowing crimson – and a green stone suddenly materialized in its center, falling through the air to drop neatly into the Gardener’s waiting palm.

“My Rune,” the Gardener mused with a smile. “So many have made such a fuss about this.” The Gardener twisted the Rune gently between its fingertips. The stone itself was a mottled green, much like jade – but a soft golden light was emanating from the runemark carved into its surface. The Elder gestured with it towards Loki. “Are you sure you wish to offer so large a payment for so small a token?”

“I’m sure,” said Loki steadily. “And if I do not survive the transaction, I ask you to place it in my brother’s hands – before sending him home, of course.”

“Of course,” agreed the Gardener. “Though I wonder at your use of the word ‘if’.” He moved his other hand to wrap more tightly around his staff, which was beginning to pulse with an undeniably sinister dark-red glow. “Are you thinking to somehow survive the loss of your Time?”

“Actually, yes.”

The Elder blinked in slow surprise. “I believe I’ve been clear about the impossibility of tricks, young Trickster.”

Loki forced himself to look away from the staff and focus instead on the Gardener’s gaze. It took less effort than it once would have. “No tricks. I still wish to offer payment. I … merely have a counteroffer to make.”

“Bargaining!” The Gardener clapped his hands in delight, the Rune flying out of his hand to hover just above his chest. “You are proving worth the wait, god of Mischief. All right then. What is your offer?”

“You said you wanted Time. I still mean to pay you in like currency.” Loki’s voice was low and urgent. “But you have only expressed interest in taking from me my future. I wish to offer you my past.”

The Elder’s face was suddenly unreadable. “You are speaking of Memory.”

“Yes.” 

“You offer to give up your memories in exchange for payment of the debt?”

“Time. That is what you said you wanted, is it not?” Loki kept his voice light. “What matters it to you if it is of the future or the past? Are they not all one to you – you who have obtained mastery over the fourth dimension?”

“True,” mused the Gardener.

“Then I offer to you my past. Take your payment from what has come before, and leave this poor, limited, third-dimensional creature to live out his future still.” Loki raised his chin slightly. “Is not the past where your heart – and your Rune – truly lies?”

The smile spread so slowly over the Gardener’s face, it seemed to pass through several different emotions: amusement, delight, avarice, and, somewhere buried deep-down, a quietly pleased moment. “You just may be worthy to wield the Rune of Ord, my boy. Because I believe – I _believe!_ – that you understand it. I am impressed.”

Loki spread his hands in apparent humility – but his eyes were dancing. The Gardener’s smile deepened in return; then, abruptly, he tapped a finger to his chin. “How much?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“How much Time, Trickster? How many memories do you offer me in payment for the Rune? And –” The Gardener raised a warning hand. “I know your age, Asgardian. I expect an offer made in centuries, not years.”

“A century, then,” said Loki. The Gardener snorted.

“You are lucky I’m not asking for every memory up till this moment. Don’t insult me with such a paltry offer.” The Gardener considered for a moment. “Let us say – a thousand years?”

“Now who’s being demanding!” Loki sputtered. “I’d be lucky if I could work out why I needed the Rune in the first place if I hand over two-thirds of my memories.”

“Then give me a serious offer.”

Loki hesitated. “Three hundred.”

The Gardener grinned, apparently getting into the spirit of bargaining. “Eight hundred.”

“Four hundred.”

“Five hundred and fifty,” said the Gardener, raising an eyebrow.

“… Done,” said Loki softly.

Grinning, the Gardener held out his hand to seal the deal. 

_“With the agreement,”_ Loki pressed on, making no move to take the proffered hand, “With the agreement that any memories of the last ten years are not to be trifled with. You already took most of those from me once before. I mean to hang onto them this time.”

The Gardener eyed him for a moment, then nodded at last. “You earned those memories, lad,” he said, and Loki let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “More than once. No memories from the last decade, then. My word on it.”

“Then,” said Loki, pressing the button on the obedience disk controller, “We have an agreement.”

The Gardener held out his hand once more. Loki hesitated for a fraction of a moment – and heard his brother’s hoarse cry from across the field. _“Loki? LOKI! Don’t you DARE!!”_

Steeling himself, Loki reached out and grasped the Elder’s hand.

The crimson light of the staff burst across their clasped hands, then shot up the length of Loki’s arm, across his chest and up his throat, enveloping him. He gasped in alarm, the warmth of the spell filling his lungs, and then –

* * * * *

It was not what Loki had expected.

He’d expected pain – or, at the very least, a kind of dizzying discomfort, a sense of something being torn from him, forcibly removed despite the fact that he’d agreed to see it taken. But it was not like that at all.

Instead, he was suddenly assailed with a wash of memories, running through his mind’s eye as if he were perusing the chapters of a well-read and much-loved book. Here was the first trip he’d taken with Mother and Father and Thor off-world, traveling the Bifrost to the vast expanses of Vanaheim; there was that glorious summer he and Thor had spent walking the Mountains of Asgard, just the two of them and the dogs and no Sif or Warriors Three in sight, having adventures all their own; then a flash of his earliest memory, sitting curled up at Frigga’s side in the late afternoon sunlight, his mother smiling down at him as she conjured the illusion in a haze of soft green light, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she looked down at him. Loki remembered how it had felt to look back up at her in wonderment and delight, how he’d ached to conjure such a creature of light himself – how he’d stretched up his hands to try and touch the illusion, only to watch it fade from view as his fingers traced through the wings of the – 

The what? It had been a dragon, hadn’t it? No; that wasn’t right. It had been a bird of some kind; his mother had loved birds. Which one? A magpie, surely, except he was almost certain it hadn’t been. It had been – it had – 

No. It was gone. He could not remember. His earliest memory, one which had been ingrained in his mind and heart’s eye, one which he had thought of with such aching fondness over the last four years … but he could not remember the detail of it now. The memory was gone.

And then the rest began to follow.

It was like standing in a room trying to remember why you’d entered it – except there was so _many_ reasons, so many memories he was trying to grasp at, and he could get his hands on none of them. That little shop in the city of Asgard; he knew it, he _knew,_ he’d always gone there to buy Mother her Name Day gifts, but he suddenly could not remember a single one he’d given her. Although the book of paintings he’d given to Father, hadn’t he? He remembered the book, but could not recall Odin’s reaction to it. That shop had been in the town square; how many hours he and Thor had spent strolling around and around the cobblestone streets, talking about – what? So many conversations they’d had, years’-worth, and as he desperately tried to grasp at one of them, any of them, he could feel all of it slipping away, forgotten no matter how hard he struggled to recall. 

The festival where Sif had been so embarrassed – had he caused her embarrassment? Or rescued her by standing by her still? The winter holiday where Odin and Frigga had been called away and he and Thor had had Yule all their own, only he could not recall what games they had played and mischief they had called; the servants had been _beside_ themselves, because he and Thor had … what had they done? Or the first time he’d tried a spell in battle; it hadn’t gone exactly right, but – perhaps it had still worked? Or had it cost him his first battle injury? 

The hours he’d spent on his own, reading his books and practicing his spells and exploring the unexplored nooks and crannies of Asgard. He tried to recall the books he’d read, those sun-drenched hours in the library – or was it in his chamber? Had he conjured his illusions in Frigga’s garden, or walked into the forest to find his own space to breathe? He’d always loved the forest, but Frigga’s garden had always been the place he felt closest to his mother, even when she wasn’t there. Even when she – 

_Mother,_ Loki thought desperately, and was horrified to find that his memory of her face had suddenly grown just a little less distinct. He tried to picture her, as she had been – but he could not recall the sound of her laugh. How had she worn her hair?

“– Mother?” he whispered.

“ _Loki._ ”

He was suddenly aware of Thor standing before him, his hands tight on Loki’s shoulders, grounding him, pulling him back towards – 

Towards the present.

“Loki,” Thor said again, with just the edge of panic in his voice. Loki blinked hard, almost surprised to find himself still standing in the field of daffodils, the Gardener standing nearby and watching them with an inscrutable expression. The sunlight had waned; twilight, it seemed, was falling on the garden at last.

“I’m all right,” Loki managed, his voice and face strained, but still he managed for his brother a reassuring smile. “It’s all right.”

“The hell it is,” Thor snapped, though the anger flashing like lightning from his good eye was not directed towards Loki. He turned on the Gardener with something very close to a snarl on his face. “What did you do to him? Did you hurt him?”

Loki managed an expression of half-lidded exasperation. “I _just_ said –”

“I did him no bodily harm,” said the Gardener placidly. “I merely took my payment.”

The color visibly drained from Thor’s face. “His life? H-how – how long? –”

But the Gardener waved an impatient hand. “Not his future. His _past._ His idea, actually; and a clever one it was too, I don’t mind saying.”

“My memories, Brother.” Loki reached up to Thor’s grasp at his shoulders and squeezed his brother’s good wrist, as much to reassure himself as Thor. “The payment was in memories.”

Thor looked at him uncomprehendingly. “You – you gave up your memories?”

“Not … all of them.”

“How many?” And the way Thor asked the question, Loki understood it was not that Thor didn’t understand – but rather that he did not wish to. “How much time did you lose? How many years did you –”

“Look, this is all very dramatic and all, but I think you’d better be going.” The Gardener waved a hand at the deepening gloom around the edges of the horizon. “There is precious little Time to lose, is there not?”

As if in answer, the restraint binding Loki’s wrist flared; this time, the pain did not fade. Wincing, Loki shot Thor an apologetic look. “He’s right. We need to get back.”

“Ah, ah, ah! Be sure not to forget this.” The Gardener grasped Loki’s wrist just below the restraint – Loki winced but did not protest – and dropped the Rune into Loki’s palm, folding Loki’s fingers over it tightly. “You earned this, lad.” He looked over at Thor. “You both did. So, please – mind how you use it. You’re the Rune’s caretakers now, eh? Don’t forget that.” 

Thor remained silent – but the anger had faded from his face, and he only looked sad. So Loki looked the Gardener in the eye, and gave the man his best mischievous smile. “I’m sure I’ll be doing my level-best to remember everything left to me, after this adventure.”

“See that you do,” said the Gardener, and he arched an eyebrow at Loki. “You may’ve lost much, but – you haven’t forgotten the most important thing, you know.”

“And what’s that?” asked Loki, smiling in amusement.

“The way home.” 

Surprised, Loki opened his mouth to reply – but then the world was going dark. It was no longer the onset of twilight, but rather that the whole garden were dimming around them, the sun and flowers and fields and Ord himself fadng into shadow. The last thing Loki heard was the voice of the magpie, coming from somewhere high overhead – or was it, perhaps, from somewhere within?

_“You always find your way home.”_

And then he and Thor were standing in front of the garden gates – now closed behind them – with Wrex was clapping her mechanical hands in front of her in delight. “By the Stars. You didn’t die. So! How did it go?”

* * * * *

“How many years, Brother?” asked Thor. “How many years did he take from you?”

“Not enough to forget _you,_ unfortunately,” Loki returned.

They were sitting at the edge of the cobblestone path that led to the gardens. Wrex had left to finish the pre-flight preparations to her ship – or so she said, though Loki suspected her real motive was the kindness of giving himself and Thor a few minutes before they returned to face the Mayor. Wrex had assured them they had been gone but a second from her perspective – but time had passed differently for the brothers, and the burning of the restraints were proof positive that they hadn’t many hours to spare. Still, Loki had agreed when Wrex had delicately suggested that a moment to regroup might not be out of order. They had been through an ordeal – three, in fact – and a moment to breathe was needed before going back to face what was bound to be the most difficult challenge of the lot.

Loki opened his hand, considering the runestone laying nestled in his palm. The carving still shone with a soft golden light, as if he cradled a whisper of stardust. Around them, the dusk – or was it the dawn? – cast everything else in soft shadow: the gates behind them, the time-ship before them. The disapproving expression on the face of Loki’s brother.

Holding out the Rune towards Thor, Loki tried for a smile. “That took rather a lot of work. Aren’t you even going to look at it?”

“How many years?” asked Thor, his tone unchanging. Loki exhaled mightily. 

“You’re not going to stop asking until I tell you, are you?”

“No.”

“You are really the most magnificent pain sometimes.”

“Funny, that’s just what I was thinking about you.”

“Can’t imagine where I get it from –”

 _“Loki,”_ said Thor, in that tone Loki knew so well, that perfect blend of stress and frustration and, buried beneath it all, a kind of exasperated affection. _I could not drive him so batty,_ Loki thought with a half smile, _If he did not care._

But it was also a tone that told Loki he’d gone as far as he could.

Loki raised his hand, and the Rune of Ord floated up to hover just above his palm. He twisted his wrist, the Rune vanishing into the most secure of his pocket dimensions, safe until he called for it again. 

Then he sighed, and looked over at Thor.

“Five centuries,” Loki said quietly. “I gave him five centuries of memories.”

For a moment, Thor could only stare. He tried to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his chest. He cleared his throat, tried again. “You mean you _lost_ five hundred years of memories.”

“I – yes.” Wincing, Loki forced himself to add, “Five hundred and fifty, to be perfectly honest.”

Thor seemed to be speaking through numb lips. “That’s – that’s one-third of your life.”

“Well,” said Loki. “Yes. I suppose. But! On the other hand, I have the entire rest of my life to make new ones. I _am_ very pleased about the whole us-not-dying thing, Brother, I have to say.” He quirked a smile, which went unreturned.

From his expression, Thor seemed to have swallowed something hard and painful in his throat. “How – which memories did he take? Is – is there a five-hundred year gap? Or is it more like –” He tried to swallow again and nearly choked.

“It’s not like that,” Loki said swiftly. “I still remember everything. Most things,” he amended. “Father. Mother. Hogun and Sif and our friends. You. Asgard. It’s just – there’s some pieces missing now. Days that I’ve lost, and – and missing adventures, and details that I can’t quite recall. There are things that are … not quite as _clear,_ now.”

Thor was silent for a time. Processing. Then, abruptly: “When we went to Nidavellir for your tenth Name-Day and Mother gave you your first set of uru daggers. Do you remember it?”

Loki shifted uncomfortably on the cobblestones. “I don’t really see the point of –” 

“Do you _remember_ it?” said Thor harshly.

“… No,” Loki forced himself to admit.

Thor nodded, but Loki could see the hurt tugging at the corner of his brother’s mouth, and felt a sudden surge of surprise. Certainly Thor could not be angry with him? “How about,” Thor went on, “How about the time we were on Midgard and you left behind that enchanted necklace? The one that convinced the wearer that they had turned invisible – but which really only did so in their own eyes, no one else’s. Some prince-or-other got his hands on it and nearly started a bloody war. Do you remember that?”

Unable to hold back a chuckle, Loki was nonetheless forced to shake his head. “Alas, no,” he said, eyes sparkling. “But that does sound _marvelously_ like me. Father was properly exasperated, I trust?”

But Thor’s expression was unmoving. Implacable. “Your dog. Alsa. The companion of your heart through our childhood. When she died. Do you remember how she died?”

Something uneasy was stirring in the pit of Loki’s stomach. “Thor, this is hardly the time or the place for this. We need to be focusing on what lies ahead. What’s behind us can wait until we’ve –”

“ _Alsa,_ Brother,” said Thor. “She died in battle, trying to fight off a bilgesnipe that very nearly ran you through. She was old and tired but she rallied one last time and she saved your life with her own. We dug her grave and you promised her you’d never forget what she did for you. Do you remember? Do you?”

“I remember her,” said Loki, running his hands over each other. “Thor, please, let’s not –”

“But do you remember how she saved you?” 

“ _No,_ ” snapped Loki. “I don’t remember. That memory was taken from me, with hundreds of others, because of a foolish deal I made as part of my foolish plan to get us out of this mess. Is that what you wanted me to say? Is that what you’ve been waiting to hear? That I’m a fool for thinking myself clever, for thinking that I could find a way out of this for both of us before, that I could –”

“You – you should not have done it, Brother,” said Thor, with a heaviness in his voice that brought Loki up short. “It should not have been you.”

The realization was so sudden, it sent him sputtering. “Is – is _that_ what this is about? You’re mad at yourself for letting me do what I promised I was going to do?” Loki could not stop the chuckle that escaped from his lips. “Thor, honestly. I thought you learned something today. Were you even paying attention during that first challenge?”

“It’s my fault we’re even –”

“I,” and Loki’s voice was steel, “Am going to say this once. It is not your fault. I chose to do this. And I’m not sorry I did. In fact,” and he could feel his chest puff up just slightly as he said it, “I have to admit in taking a certain pride in coming up with so clever a solution.”

But Thor was shaking his head, damn him. “You’ve given up so much. We’ve – we’ve lost so much already. And now, to lose even the memories of what we once knew, of what we once _had –_ ”

“But I didn’t lose all of it. You speak as if I have nothing left of our family, our childhood – our _home_ – and I do! I do.”

“Still. It should’ve been me to make the sacrifice.” Thor clenched his hands into fists atop his lap. “I’m the one who got us caught up in all of this. It’s by my doing that we’re even here –”

“It is not _your doing,_ ” Loki said flatly. “It is your bad luck that we made a pit stop on a planet ruled by a despotic dictator who decided to take her self-esteem issues out on you. It is hardly your fault –”

“You aren’t the only one who’s had to work through some personal growth issues. I was brutish and thoughtless and unkind, once.” Thor raked a hand across his short hair. “I’ve got to take responsibility for my own actions, even ones from long ago.”

Loki scoffed at him. “Execution is hardly a fair consequence for starting an argument in a bar four hundred years ago by accident.”

“Surely the god of Mischief is not about to quibble about unforeseen consequences being unfair,” shot Thor in return. “What kind of agent of Chaos _are_ you?”

“Then how about this? How about the undeniable fact that we only came to this wretched planet for _me?_ ”

That drew Thor up short. “Kassyndra really did need to be dropped off home – though God knows why anyone would ever want to come back here, home or no. But we owe a debt to any of the Gladiators who helped us rescue our people during Ragnarok.”

“True. And we would be happy to take any of them anywhere they wish to go.” Loki jabbed a finger towards Thor’s chest. “But we only hung around to take in the sights because of _me._ Didn’t we?”

Thor’s face twisted in an expression so odd, Loki could not read it. “So it would seem.” He hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Loki, I – I should tell you something.”

“Later,” said Loki, and when Thor looked about to argue: “Whatever it is, it will wait. There will be time for it later, I assure you.”

“But –”

“Thor.” Loki met his gaze steadily. “Ever since we got here, you’ve been letting me take the lead. Letting me call the shots – without question, without hesitation. Heaven knows why, but you seem to trust me. So I ask you –” Loki grasped Thor’s unbound wrist, giving it a squeeze. “I ask you to _trust_ me.”

Thor searched Loki’s face for a long moment. “Don’t make me regret it,” he said softly. And Loki understood what Thor was really asking of him. It was not a plea against betrayal. It was a plea against pain. Against loss.

“Well,” said Loki lightly. “If I could guarantee no regrets – you wouldn’t need to trust me, would you?”

“You have me there,” sighed Thor – but then he smiled, and though his face was tired, some of the tension had eased out once more. He stood, then reached down a hand to pull his brother to his feet. “All right, Brother. Ready for one more trick?”

“Always,” Loki grinned.

Thor’s good eye flashed a spark of lightning. “Then I suppose it’s time we were on our way. Mustn’t keep our hostess waiting.”


	16. No Time For Caution

“So! When shall I drop you off?” asked Wrex.

The inside of Wrex’s ship resembled an old-fashioned clock, all gears and dials and mechanical pieces. Loki understood just enough about the mechanics of time travel to know that the science and spells required to move through time involved equipment that looked nothing like these cogs and wheels. The mechanical gizmos built into the walls and panels had been placed there for purely aesthetic purposes, and Loki found himself both amused and oddly touched. Wrex traveled alone; she’d decorated her ship entirely for her own pleasure and purposes. 

She was standing now at the ship’s console, head cocked to one side, waiting for their answer. The console held precious little in the ways of buttons and switches; instead, there was an array of silver-white panels built into the large, brass-colored surface. 

Thor turned back from where he’d been examining what looked damn near like a Midgardian cuckoo clock fashioned against one side wall. “From our perspective, it’s been nearly two days no matter when we return. Maybe we’ll win some points if we don’t keep the Mayor waiting on her end.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Loki shrugged. “Close as you can get us to when we left, please, Wrex. Though,” he added thoughtfully, “I doubt it will make much of a difference. The Mayor seems to really hate us.”

“Well, good for you!” said Wrex gaily, pressing each hand against two glowing-green panels sloping overhead. “You must’ve really ticked her off. She doesn’t waste her hate on just anybody.”

“I have to admit, I still don’t quite understand why,” Thor mused. “I know I broke her laws, but this feels more personal than that.”

“Oh, it is,” said Loki grimly. “We are off-worlders, for one, and off-worlders that had the nerve to interfere with her imposed Order. But it is more than that – especially, I think, with you, Brother. She may not like me much because of my, let us say, affection for Chaos – but I think the fact that you hold such literal power in your veins quite annoys her. You’re not just an upstart mortal; you’re an upstart god.”

“She’s on an entire planet of magic-users!” Thor gestured impatiently. “God or no, what makes me so special? My lightning isn’t even magic, anyway.”

“It is to her.” Loki raised an amused eyebrow. “And as someone who doesn’t have –” 

The cuff on his wrist burst into flames. 

Loki cried out, more in shock than pain, and jerked his arm up in alarm. Thor leapt forward, his cape in his hands, and wrapped Loki’s wrist in the fabric, muffling the tiny tongues of fire.

“What happened?”Wrex called over from the console. “Are you two setting fires right before takeoff?”

“Not us!” spluttered Thor, slowly releasing his grasp. His face had gone white. “That was the Mage’s spell. It’s – I think it’s all right, now.”

“Thank you, Brother,” Loki said, almost sheepishly. Then he winced, looking down at his wrist. The scorched material around his sleeve released a final wisp of smoke, and the flesh of his wrist and forearm was covered in angry burns. 

“I wasn’t certain that would work,” Thor said, still bone-pale. “I wasn’t certain we’d be able to put it out. I thought – I thought our deadline had come due.”

“My own fault,” said Loki, twisting his other hand beneath the fresh burns in a futile attempt to ease the pain. “I was about to break a confidence. It seems the Mayor was merely reminding me of that.”

“You all right then?” asked Thor.

“For the moment.” Loki smiled to mask his inner anxiety. It truly was his own fault – he’d forgotten himself – but it had been an uncomfortably handy reminder that they were not, as one might say, out of the woods just yet.

“How much time do you two have left?” asked Wrex, then added, in just a faintly condescending tone of voice, “You _have_ been keeping track, haven’t you?”

“I have,” said Loki, too amused to be insulted. He raised a hand, and the pocketwatch he’d liberated from the merchant’s shop dropped neatly into his hand from the empty air above. He flipped open the lid, then frowned. “Right. Well. We best be on our way.”

Wrenn nodded, gave the panels in front of her one final look over, then pressed a mechanical hand flat to the console’s center. With a sound like a distressed organetto, the massive engines began to come to life. Loki was suddenly aware of the sensation of the floor warping beneath his feet, though when he glanced down at it, everything appeared to be remaining perfectly level.

“It is such a very odd way to travel, this time-jumping thing,” Loki remarked, snapping shut the pocketwatch. “You feeling all right so far? You seem to be adjusting better to the jump this time round –”

“Never mind that.” Thor folded his arms across his chest before tilting his head slightly in Loki’s direction. “How much time do we have?”

“Enough not to panic. Not enough to linger.” Loki was frowning at the lid of the watch. He saw Thor looking at him and held it out, tapping the front meaningfully. “Brother, am I going mad, or did this fob watch originally –”

The ship suddenly whipped so violently that, for a moment, he thought there’d been an explosion. The brothers were hurled against one wall, landing in a hard heap against the rocking, pitching floor. Even Wrex jolted wildly at her console, her legs flanging out like a spider’s to balance and keep her in place. 

“ _What was that?_ ” roared Thor, as he and Loki attempted to drag themselves to their feet on the still-bucking floor. He didn’t get any further before the ship thrashed again, tossing them to the other side of the small deck.

“We can’t land!” cried Wrex. The flat panels on her face were alight with whirling lights. “The planet’s timestream has been frozen. We’re locked out!”

The ship gave another massive shutter, the supports groaning as if on the verge of collapse. A conduit overhead exploded in a shower of sparks and debris, and suddenly alarms were blaring, flashing red lights filling the cabin. 

With a desperate lunge, Wrex’s hand landed hard on a panel set above her head. There was another violent lurch, and then the sudden sensation of weightlessness. Loki squeezed his eyes shut, feeling as though he was being pulled in all directions, his mind inside out, thoughts scattered to the winds – And then –

* * * * *

Silence.

Everything around them had stilled.

“What happened?” asked Thor, propping himself upright on one arm. “Loki?”

“Horgk,” said Loki, or some sound to that effect, because he was trying very hard not to be sick. He was vaguely annoyed that he seemed to be suffering the ill effects of whatever had happened to them, when Thor – who had struggled so adjusting to fourth dimensional travel – was apparently unfazed. 

“… Okay,” Thor was saying, a corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. “Wrex? How about you? You all right?”

There was a sound like a car engine trying to turn over, and then Wrex was pulling herself back upright from where she’d collapsed in a heap of unlikely limbs, various appendages spinning around each as they settled back into place. She positioned herself in front of the main console, flanging out the fingers of one spider-like hand across the navigational panel and peering down at the readouts. After a moment, there was a sound like a sheet of metal being torn in half; Loki jumped half out of his skin before he realized it was Wrex voicing her displeasure.

“The Mayor,” Wrex hissed, “is such a bloody _asshole._ ” 

“What happened, exactly?” asked Thor, as the brothers began to struggle to their feet. To Loki’s ears, Thor’s voice sounded muffled, as if he were speaking from far away. Or maybe it was just the ringing in Loki’s ears. “When are we?”

“We’re stuck,” said Wrex grimly. “Ship’s half wedged in the Time Vortex, half rematerialized into normal spacetime.” She straightened slowly, reached out to forlornly tap a few more panels, then dropped her hand with a mechanical sigh. “Looks like Nonesuch has been timelocked.” 

“Timelocked?” Thor glanced at Loki, as if to see if he was following, but Loki could only press his lips together tightly and look away. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means that the entire planet has been frozen in a moment of Time,” said Wrex. “No one’s getting in or out. We’re effectively trapped until the timeline is in motion again.” She cocked her head at them. “Anyone on the Mayor’s staff who might be able to do something like that? Freeze Time, I mean?”

“… Mage Lorca,” murmured Thor, glancing again at Loki. “She did it before. But why would she –”

“It won’t be locked for long,” said Loki heavily. “Just long enough.” He closed his eyes, trying to still the ringing in his ears and the aching in his head and the heartsick feeling lodged in his chest.

Beside him, he heard Thor’s sharp intake of breath. “Until our deadline runs out.”

“Yeah,” said Wrex softly. “That’s what I reckon. Then the timelock will break, my ship will finish materializing –”

“And they’ll be able to swoop in and grab the Rune off our corpses,” Thor said, then added weakly, with a kind of gallows humor that Loki gave him credit for, “That hardly seems to be playing fair.”

“Lorca must’ve cast the lock once we left the Garden and tried to come back to the present. We’re under her countdown spell, and that means we’re still, in some part, under her control. We’d be easy enough for her to track.” Loki raised a hand to massage at his temples, trying to knead out the aching dizziness. “It’s quite clever, actually. We are in very real trouble, Brother.”

“You think _you’ve_ got problems?” Wrex snorted. “What you think the odds are that I won’t be arrested? I’ve been aiding and abetting you two, you know.”

The grim smile on Thor’s face vanished. “We didn’t – we shouldn’t have drug you into this.” He took a step towards her, voice and expression achingly earnest. “Wrex, you should fly out of here. Get yourself and your ship as far away from Nonesuch as you can –”

“Oh, my ship’s run aground on the timelock,” said Wrex, almost conversationally. “It’s not moving until the timelock runs out, and then it’ll finish materializing back on Nonesuch. Not much to be done about that.”

Thor hesitated. “… Nope,” he said firmly.

Wrex’s head pulled back slightly. “Come again?”

“I said ‘nope.’ As in ‘No,’” Thor added for good measure. “We came this far. We won’t lose now.” He turned and looked at Loki expectantly. “Well, Brother?”

Loki startled slightly, and turned to blink owlishly at Thor. “I beg your pardon?”

“What’s your plan to get us out of here?” asked Thor steadily.

“Thor, I …” He was torn between laughing and offering apology. “I’m a bit out of my depth with this one. I couldn’t even have gotten us to Ord’s garden without Wrex’s help. To find a way to break a timelock this powerful, it’s, it’s –”

Thor raised an eyebrow. “Surely the god of Mischief is not about to use the word ‘impossible.’”

“We’ll need more than Mischief to get out of this one, Brother!” sputtered Loki. But Thor only folded his arms over his chest.

“I know you don’t believe that. We just need a plan.” He raised an eyebrow. “What about the Stone?”

“The Stone?”

“The Time – er, the _Rune,_ ” said Thor patiently. “What this whole blasted thing has been about. Can’t we use it to break the lock?”

Loki could not hold back a slightly grim chuckle. “No.”

“Whyever not?”

“Trust me,” said Loki, with enough force that Thor closed his mouth over the next question he’d already been gearing up to ask. “But you’re right about one thing: a little mischief can go a long way.”

Still holding the fob watch, Loki stumbled on unsteady feet towards the console. Wrex tilted alarmingly to one side, apparently to make room for him in front of the panels.

“All right,” said Loki, with more confidence than he felt – and wasn’t that always his way? “You said this was a timelock. A timelock’s a lock just like any other, isn’t it? So if we want to get past it, we either have to find the key, or break the lock.”

“Are you powerful enough to break this Lorca’s magic?” asked Wrex. “Considering you’ve got those time-bombs still strapped to your wrists, I’m assuming the answer is No.”

“A good point. A bit hurtful to be reminded of, but a good point.” Loki tapped a finger against the fob watch’s case. “Which leaves us with finding the key.”

“The key being – what, exactly?” asked Thor. “A reversal spell?”

“Naturally. But I can only manage a reversal spell if I can figure out what she did in the first place. And I’m not certain I have the time – no pun intended – to reverse-engineer such complex magic.” Loki flipped open the watch’s case and looked down at the face, his eyes following the inexorable motion of the seconds ticking by. No. Ticking _down._ “But even if I can’t manage the exact counterspell to what she performed, I should be able to find some way around it. Locks, after all, can be picked.”

Green light filled his open palm as he raised the watch, beams of light falling from his fingertips. He held the watch aloft, letting the power of the spell build around it, then took a breath, closed his eyes – and released his magic into the timestream.

And was instantly plunged into a maelstrom.

It was nothing like his careful navigating of the currents when he’d helped Wrex guide her ship before. Now he was unmoored, cast adrift upon an electric sea of roiling, seething energy. The paths were gone, replaced by unfathomable whirlpools that sought to gather him up in their undertows, to drag him down and drown him. He tried to center himself, to find some point of security – some rock, jutting out of the waves in the storm – but it was like trying to catch one’s breath in a hurricane. The magic he’d released was being ripped out of him, and he could feel the force of the Vortex battering him, trying to prise him apart and consume him from the inside out – 

When he came back to himself, he stood hunched over and shaking on the deck of the ship, his hands on his knees, drawing in deep breaths and letting them out shakily as he tried to quell the nausea roiling in his gut. The watch’s chain was still tangled in his hand, the open fob bouncing against his shin as he struggled to calm.

“What happened?” asked Thor, grasping him by the shoulder. 

“Stupid,” Loki gasped. “Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ ” 

“Loki?”

“I tried to find it,” Loki said, still bent over with eyes closed. “The moment, the precise nanosecond that Lorca froze the planet’s timestream. I have to find the exact instant she chose, just as I had to find the instant Ord chose for his timeloop. It’s a single drop of water in an infinite sea of time.” Swallowing again, he opened his eyes and straightened slowly upright, trying to hold his eyes steady in his own head as he turned to look at his brother. “But my magic can’t navigate the Vortex like it did before. I got caught up in it, instead.”

He looked down then, unable to meet Thor’s gaze. Because if he saw Thor looking at him with anger, or pity – or, worst of all, with disappointment – he knew it would undo him completely.

Loki’s gaze drifted to the fob watch in his hand, ticking down the scant few hours left to them. He turned the watch over, looking once more at the creature fashioned into its cover.

“I could’ve sworn it was a snake before,” he murmured. He could feel his heart thumping painfully in his chest, his head still spinning and his stomach aching with nausea. He sat down heavily on the edge of one of the jumpseats, feeling enormously tired. “I’m sorry, Wrex. I’m – I’m missing too much Time.”

Wrex’s head swiveled between the two of them. “I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”

“A deal we made. That Loki made,” Thor amended. “Ord wanted Time in payment for what we came for. So Loki gave him Time – time from his past. Five hundred years’ worth of memories.”

“Five hundred and fifty, to be precise,” Loki murmured, still not looking at him.

“But,” said Thor, “Aside from pissing me off for giving _far_ too much away by himself without my help, I’m not quite sure how that’s related to what’s going on now.” He stood over Loki, looking down at him with one eyebrow raised – but his expression was gently amused, and warmly concerned, and Loki felt another crush of guilt and disappointment at his own failure. 

“Because I’ve lost too much,” said Loki. He took a steadying breath, then cocked his head to peer up at his brother. “There are too many gaps now, too many pieces missing from my timeline. I can’t even hold myself steady in the Vortex, let alone try to search out the precise moment of the timelock. I can’t do it, Brother. I’m – I’m sorry.” He chuckled, the sound sad and soft. “It’s like trying to navigate to an island in the middle of a hurricane. And I’m afraid I don’t have a compass.”

The little ship was silent. Loki kept his head down, unwilling to look up, unwilling to see his own disappointment in himself mirrored in his brother’s eyes.

“Then let me be the compass,” said Thor.

Loki’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Use my memories. Tap into them with your magic.” Thor was grinning at him, good eye ablaze with fierce determination. “To fill in the gaps. To – to anchor yourself against the storm, such as it is.” He ran a hand through his short hair. “If you think that will be enough?”

“It might be,” Loki began slowly. “But – it’ll cost you. It’ll be a bit uncomfortable, to say the least. Not to mention the unavoidable invasion of privacy –”

“I’m afraid we don’t have too many other options here,” Wrex announced. “And a chance of a way out is better than no chance at all, y’know?”

“It’s risky,” Loki argued. “Risky to you, Thor, and with no guarantee of success.”

Thor snorted. “And your bargain with Ord was such a safe bet?”

“That was different.” Loki could feel the chain of the fob watch pressing against his palm. “Might I remind you that chaos and risk are part of _my_ job description – not yours?”

Thor held up a hand, stopping him. Shook his head. 

And smiled.

“How many times must I say it, Brother?” he asked, smiling still. “I _trust_ you.”

And suddenly the guilt and the self-disappointment were gone. Because after all of Loki’s limitations, his betrayals and failures, his crimes and his destruction and all the pain he had caused – after everything that had happened – he had come home. To find his brother, trusting him still. 

A warm feeling suffused Loki’s chest, as if he were standing in a sunbeam. “Damned if I know why,” Loki said, but he was smiling. He came to his feet, then stood before Thor, the fob watch still cradled in his palm.

“You ready?” he asked.

Thor took a breath, visibly bracing himself, then nodded. “Ready.”

Loki smiled at him. “It’s all right,” he said – and then he pressed his palm against Thor’s forehead.

The memories engulfed him instantly, as if the floodgates had been opened and he was standing in the path of a tidal wave. Thor had not lied when he’d said he trusted his brother, for he’d left his mind wholly open, wholly unguarded – and now there was a rush of too many sights, too many sounds, too much sensation and emotion submerging him. Images of Asgard, of Frigga and Odin, of Thor’s friends and rivals and opponents, of countless battles against countless enemies – of Midgard and Jotunheim and spaceships and Sakaar – all of it was consuming him, and consuming Thor too, moving to sweep them into the tide and crush them in their wake. 

_This won’t do,_ Loki thought desperately, and reached out tendrils of magic, searching for a handhold against the deluge. There was a tug in response, and he followed the thread – and found his brother standing beneath a crimson sky on a silent battlefield, boots ankle-deep in blood. Thor was weeping silently, tears running down his face as his shoulders shook, and Loki could see himself standing beside Thor, his younger face drawn and pale, as they looked down at the body of a young warrior who – 

_Whom I can’t remember,_ Loki thought. _I don’t remember any of this._ He glanced back up at Thor’s face, and wished almost instantly that he hadn’t. The Loki standing beside Thor may’ve been a younger version of himself, but this was _Thor,_ the Thor of now, with his short hair and missing eye, weeping again as if this moment had only just happened. Because, from his perspective, it had. 

“You’ll relive each memory as I pull them forward,” said Loki, stepping towards him, his voice reverberating through the haze. Thor and the younger Loki both turned to look at him. “And the strongest memories will make for the strongest anchors. Are you sure we should keep going?” 

Thor wiped the back of his hand beneath his good eye, then looked up at Loki and gave him a lopsided grin. “I _trust_ you, Brother.”

“Then I’m sorry,” said Loki – and the scene around them exploded in green light.

Now that Loki knew what to look for, it was easy. He honed in on those memories which stood out in stark relief from the rest, those memories of aching grief and blinding fury, of abject terror and sheer joy. He tried not to focus too closely on the images that flashed around him, nor on the waves of emotion they left in their wake. Thor screaming his rage on the battlefield, or shouting in barely-contained grief at their father, or crushing Jane Foster against his chest as he came back to Midgard for her – and such joy and sadness were mingled in that memory, Loki’s throat ached with the pain of it. 

Worst of all was when he saw _himself,_ saw those moments when he had turned on his brother, tricked him, fought him – betrayed him. He tried not to watch this history, the life that was playing before him, not wishing to intrude – but he could not help but see.

And he could not help but see Thor reliving each moment, each pain and rage and bittersweet happiness, and it took everything Loki had not to reach out again, to try and soften the effects or stop the rush of memories from overtaking and overpowering them both.

Instead, he let them come, and as each memory swept across them, Loki’s magic reached out like a grappling hook, securing the moment in time like an anchor. With every mooring, he could feel himself recede from the Vortex a little further, as if the raft he currently clung to against the currents was slowly transforming into the sturdiness of a ship. The violence of the storm was abating, the clouds clearing, and he could see his way again. Could send out one final thread of magic, searching for the single drop in the sea, the one moment that stood amidst all the others and – 

Yes. There. _There._ In this dimension of swirling time, it stood out in a single point of light, illuminated against the storm by the deep crimson pulsing of Lorca’s spell. Here was their lock, just waiting to be picked.

_I’ve found it,_ he wanted to say, but he was drowning – they both were – drowning in the memory and the emotions and the Time rushing around them. So instead, he grasped Thor’s hand in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

And realized he had no idea what to do next.

Desperately, he reached out with his free hand, and wrapped a tendril of magic around the lock. Lorca’s spell fought him, and he gritted his teeth, reaching back against his hold on Thor’s wrist to pull forth another memory. Thor was shaking, trembling with the effort of holding his course against the onslaught of emotion and history and Time itself. Loki anchored himself with the threads of Memory and redoubled his efforts, green light cascading from his hands – and his eyes were filled with it, his vision lost in the glow of his own magic. 

_It’s not enough,_ he thought desperately. _Wrex was right. We came so far and did so much, but it’s not enough. I’m not strong enough to break it – not clever enough to find a way around it – not enough, not_ enough – 

And then he felt the fob watch, burning brightly in his hand. 

Eyes afire with green light, Loki raised the watch before him – and saw, on its case, the carved shaped of a magpie, winking back at him.

_You were mostly certainly not there before,_ he thought – and then laughed, the sound reverberating through the storm. 

“Thank you,” he whispered to Ord, his voice trembling with magic.

And he opened the watch.

Golden light burst forth, and for a single instant, the entire Vortex seemed to freeze, the energy of Eternity coalescing around the locked nanosecond of time. 

Then the lock exploded.

The force of the eruption shattered through him, whipping his consciousness back onto the deck of Wrex’s ship with a violence that threw him back against the far wall. He caught himself with one arm and stood gasping, trying to reorient himself. Thor, pale and shaky as he hung onto the back of a nearby jumpseat, looked up at him with the question written on his face.

“Wrex?” Loki managed, turning towards her. “Did we –”

Wrex was standing at the console, long-fingered hands dancing across the panels as the ship’s engines thrummed beneath the floor. “You did it!” she cried, flanging one claw into the air in triumph. “We’re moving! Landing gear engaged. We’re on our way home!”

Still clutching onto the back of the jumpseat, Thor managed to flash Loki a tiny grin. “Well done, Brother.”

“I believe,” said Loki, smiling back in relief, “That’s what’s known as a ‘team effort.’”

* * * * *

Wrex landed in an alleyway just a few blocks away from the Courthouse – an extra kindness as far as Loki was concerned, all things considered. They filed out of the timeship, then stood in the alleyway and looked at each other. It was the morning after they’d left, and the early light was muffled by the tall buildings on either side of them and by the clouds overhead. The alley was dank and cold, and Loki and Thor’s breath hung in the mist in front of their faces.

“Thank you,” said Thor at last. “For everything.”

He smiled, extending a hand. Wrex looked down and stared at the proffered hand, almost as if unsure what to do, then reached out and wrapped her long mechanical claws gently around his hand.

“Pleasure was all mine,” she said, then made a sound like a rusty gate hinge. “It wasn’t without its entertainment.”

Thor grinned, giving her a clap to the metallic joint that served as her shoulder. Then he glanced over at Loki.

“Quickly as you can, Brother,” he said, and raised his blistered and bloody wrist. “I think our time is almost up.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” said Loki, and waited as Thor made his way to the opposite end of the alley. Then he turned and raised an eyebrow at Wrex.

“You said you wanted information. That was our agreement.” His hand raised to smooth the line of the small golden emblem he wore on his chest. “And heaven knows you’ve more than kept to your side of the bargain.”

“I’m a little surprised you’re keeping to yours,” returned the mechanical pilot, but her voice was amused.

Loki spread his hands magnanimously. “Why, Wrex! I’m genuinely hurt. Weren’t you the one insisting that I’d turned over a new leaf?”

She tilted her head to one side. “So you’ve given up on the ‘god of Mischief’ title, have you?”

He smiled innocently. “Well. It’s rather more like I’ve added a few more benevolent claims on top of that one.”

“Mmm.” Then her posture straightened. “Then tell me, god of Mischief. How did you do it?” 

He smiled. “How’d I do what, exactly?”

“… Change,” said Wrex softly. 

It wasn’t what he’d expected, and he fumbled for a reply. “What – what do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” said Wrex, with just a hint of sharpness. “You don’t have the time for it – and neither, quite frankly, do I. So just the truth. You _fixed_ yourself, Loki of Asgard. You left behind your faults and made yourself into something better. And I want to know …” Her voice was growing creakier, as if the mechanics in her throat were catching on something. “I want to know how you did it. Because I … I want to fix myself, too.”

Loki was silent. The wind outside the alley gusted sharply, strong enough currents that a whisper of breeze crept past the walls and teased through his hair, twisting at the corner of his long cape. He looked down and ran a hand along the edge of the seam, thinking.

“I didn’t leave my faults behind,” he said, speaking slowly, feeling out the truth of each word. “It’s not like that. It’s – our faults are the choices we make to try and protect ourselves. Or at least, mine were. I’d been choosing anger and vengeance and cruelty, because I thought – I thought that if I made myself into a monster, I wouldn’t have to be afraid of becoming one anymore. And that maybe, maybe I’d stop hurting. Because what can hurt a monster?”

Wrex was silent, her blank face turned towards him with such an odd intensity, he felt her gaze on him all the same.

“So when I changed, when I decided to choose to be something more than what I’d become, I didn’t – it wasn’t because I stopped being afraid. It was because I stopped believing the fear could protect me.” He gave a little shrug. “And once I understood that – I stopped being afraid anyway.”

“And found your way home,” said Wrex, in an odd little voice.

Loki gave a start. “Yes,” he said. “And found my way home.”

The cuff on his wrist brightened in intensity. Loki hissed, grasping at his wrist, tears beginning to prick at his eyes. Wrex gave a little start.

“Go,” she said, nodding. “You’re running out of time. Get going. Give the Mayor Hell from me.”

Loki smiled at her. “We’ll do our best.”

He’d turned to go, when her hand on his shoulder brought him up short. He tilted his head back towards her, and found her staring down at him.

“Be careful,” she said. “Make sure you both come through this.”

“Worried about me still?” he said, amused and oddly touched. “You’ve already gotten your payment – such as it was.”

“Oh, it was never just about the payment, Asgardian.”

“What?” Loki blinked in surprise. “What else, then?”

“I’ve been to the future. I’ve seen what’s in store, for you and your brother. For all of us.” She leaned her head down, as if to whisper her mechanical voice into his ear. “When the Titan comes.”

Loki froze.

“We’ll need you, then.” She leaned back, pointing a too-long phalange at him. “So don’t disappoint.”

Loki watched as she stepped away, sliding back into the gash in space-time that served as the door to her ship. Then there was a spinning motion, a flash of light – and the ship had vanished. Thor stepped up beside Loki, staring at the spot where she’d disappeared.

Thor cocked an eyebrow at him. “What was all that she was saying to you? At the end? About seeing what’s in store?”

“… Later,” said Loki. He squared his shoulders, turning towards the mouth of the alleyway. “We have an appointment to keep.”


	17. A Cunning Little Mystery, All Done With Mirrors

“You know this plan of yours is going to get us killed,” whispered Thor.

Loki gave a half-wild grin that one could find either disconcerting or reassuring. “Now, where have I heard that before?” he murmured back.

They were standing before the closed side doors leading to the courtroom, under the watchful eyes of two Guard Mages who were looking at them askance from beneath the shadows of their hooded robes. They were technically still under their own reconnaissance, with the Guards being nothing but a formality (or so Mage Lorca had insisted) – but the cuffs, sizzling painfully around their blistered and bloody wrists, made it hard to feel like anything other than a prisoner once more.

But maybe that was all right, Loki mused to himself. His shoulders were rigid with tension, his spine ramrod straight – but he knew his eyes were dancing. 

It had been a long time since he’d been so nervous. Or having so very much fun. 

“You know I trust _you,_ Brother,” Thor was saying quietly, his gaze moving from guard to guard. “I just wish your plan didn’t involve us having us place quite so much trust in our new friend. If that is, indeed, what he is ...”

“Oh, I understand your reservations, believe me,” said Loki serenely. “But I have a hunch on this one, Thor.”

“Why?” said Thor, with a hint of something either like desperation or exasperation.

“Because,” said Loki, “It’s you and me, Brother. And we always seem to find our way home, in the end, don’t we?” Thor was shaking his head, and Loki flashed him a grin. “If you can’t find your way to having faith in _him,_ Thor – then just have faith in me.”

Thor’s expression changed oddly. “Don’t ever think –” he began, only to be interrupted when Mage Lorca swung open the doors.

“Turns out you’re expected!” she announced cheerfully. “Quite literally first on the docket.”

The brothers glanced at each other. Thor hesitated only a moment before giving Loki a barely perceptible nod. Loki quirked a smile in return, then turned back, and drew in a sharp breath.

Then he steeled his shoulders, and walked beside Thor into the courtroom.

So much had happened since last they’d been there that Loki had half expected it to have changed – but of course it was only the next day, and of course it was all the same. The stained-glass windows overhead casting blocks of colored sunlight onto the high walls; the long black tapestry showcasing different examples of the grisly fates that had met all those who had found themselves on the receiving end of the justice of Nonesuch. The room was emptier now than it had been before; gone were the rows of guards on either side, and the canine-faced bailiff sitting with his stacks of papers. There was only Mage Lorca, guiding the brothers down the long aisle towards the front of the room …

Where awaiting them was the Mayor, sitting atop her ornate golden throne and sneering down with an expression that was equal parts amusement and avarice.

“You’re early!” she said, serenely enough, though her eyes were glittering. “At least, you are from our perspective.” She waved a scaled hand, indicating the cuffs on their blistered and bloodied wrists. “But it seems you were cutting it a bit close from yours.”

Beside him, Loki heard Thor take a sharp breath. “We did make an effort to be timely, Your Excellency,” said Thor, giving her a friendly smile that reached nowhere near his good eye. “But we had a little trouble on the trip back. As I’m sure you’re quite surprised to hear?”

A slow smile spread across the Mayor’s face. “Surprised indeed.” She raised an eyebrow as her gaze fell on Loki. “And you, Lord of Misrule! Mage Lorca tells me it was nearly necessary to begin your execution earlier than planned. It seems you came perilously close to breaking a promise.” She leaned forward, all traces of a smile gone. “Didn’t you?”

“That,” said Loki, voice low and cheerful, “remains to be seen.” He spread his hands magnanimously. “For I’m pleased to tell you, Your Excellency, that our bargain’s been kept. We did as we promised. We have returned with the Rune of Ord!”

It was, Loki reflected regretfully, always hard to build up a proper show when one was lacking an appreciative audience – or, really, any audience at all. The Mayor simply stared at him, a smirk pulling at one side of her mouth.

“… Where is it, then?” she asked.

“Hidden away, for the moment,” said Thor, stepping forward. “Surely you don’t expect us to just hand it over?”

“Actually, that’s exactly what I expect. ‘Just handing it over’ was precisely our agreement.” The Mayor smiled sharply, fangs bared. “Do you forget so quickly?”

Thor raised his bloody wrist. “We agreed to trade the Rune to you for our freedom. What assurances do we have that you’ll keep to your end of the bargain, and you won’t send us bursting into flames the moment we give it up?”

“The agreement was that you’d go free once you gave me the Rune and I had the opportunity to _use_ it. To reverse the effects of your crime and restore the life of a lost innocent.” The Mayor eyed him suspiciously, then leaned forward almost imperceptibly. “But I’ve yet to see any proof that you are planning on keeping to your half of our agreement.”

“… I suppose that’s fair enough,” murmured Thor. Moving slowly, as if to keep from alarming a predator, Thor reached into an inner pocket of his breastplate and pulled out a small cloth bag. He tilted the bag, and suddenly the room was flooded with a blinding green light – emanating from the small, shining gemstone that sat nestled in his palm. 

The Mayor was silent as Thor held up the stone like a beacon, letting its glow wash over them all.

“My brother spoke truly,” said Thor, and though he was not shouting, his voice filled the hall like the low thunder of an approaching storm. “As we promised. The prize is yours, my lady.”

“… Very well,” said the Mayor, her face unreadable, and Mage Lorca made to step forward.

But Thor had already closed his hand, plunging the room back into the dusty light filtering weakly through the ancient windows high overhead. “Not so fast. We’re still waiting for the part where you give us some reason to think you treacherous cowards won’t just take the Rune for yourself and leave us in flames.”

The room was suddenly pin-drop silent.

“I think what my brother is trying to say –” Loki began hastily, stepping forward.

The restraints at their wrists, already glowing red with heat, suddenly flared white. Loki muffled a cry and grasped at his forearm beneath the cuff. His hands were shaking, his shoulders trembling with pain. Beside him, Thor was gritting his teeth, his hand around the Rune a tightly-clenched fist, perspiration beginning to bead upon his brow. 

“I think the more pressing question –” said the Mayor, almost gently, as they stood in struggling silence before her, “– especially given how close you are to the deadline, is: how long dare you prolong this before handing over what you owe? _I_ hold the cards here, Sons of Odin. You’re just going to have to trust me to keep to my end of the bargain.”

“A good faith gesture, at least,” managed Loki, feeling the heat building in his chest, an uncomfortable flush rising to his cheeks. “Release one of us from your binding spell, and keep the other as hostage. After all,” and he raised his chin, meeting her gaze steadily, “This has really only ever been about _one_ Son of Odin. Hasn’t it?”

The Mayor looked at him.

“Yes,” she said softly. Surely that was not pity in her gaze? “Yes, it has.”

She nodded, and Mage Lorca stepped forward, a tongue of flame already dancing across her palm. Lorca snapped her fingers, and, with a faint hiss, one white-hot restraint broke into sizzling shards – the pieces dripping away, melting into nothingness. 

Leaving Loki grasping at his newly-freed wrist and looking helplessly at Thor.

Thor, whose wrist was still tightly bound by the burning, writhing restraint. 

“I thought –” Loki spoke through numb lips. “I thought they’d let you go, Brother. I thought –”

“You thought it was really you we were after, didn’t you?” The Mayor’s mouth twisted in a silent snarl, fangs glinting in the light. “Did you think this whole proceeding was a feint to ensnare you? Don’t flatter yourself. We claimed the prisoner we wanted at the start. Your life offered in forfeit alongside his would’ve always been but a small bonus.”

Loki’s head snapped up to glare at her, his eyes burning. He could feel his hands half-clenching at his side, the temptation to conjure a dagger or two almost irresistible. 

Catching his gaze, Thor gave a smile that was almost apologetic. “It’s all right, Brother,” he said softly. “We’ll see it through to the end. I’m not losing faith now.”

He stepped forward, holding out the stone for Mage Lorca. Loki shifted slightly, looking as if he was on the verge of speaking.

“Something you wanted to add, little Trickster?” asked the Mayor, almost languidly.

“… No,” said Loki, his voice soft. He watched as Mage Lorca plucked the stone from Thor’s hand and frowned. She weighed it in her hand, then turned towards the Mayor uncertainly.

“Your Worship –” she began.

“It’s all right, Lorca.” The Mayor folded her hands neatly before her. “Bring it forward.”

For the first time, Lorca looked nervous. Then, seeming to steel herself, she gave a little shrug and made her way towards the small winding staircase leading up to the platform above them. Loki watched her go, then shifted his gaze to the Mayor. She was staring back at him, a small smile toying with the edges of her lips, and Loki felt his stomach lurch. 

Lorca reached the top of the platform, and so eager was she to make her way back down again that she nearly dropped the stone as she handed it to the Mayor. She was halfway down the staircase before the Mayor next spoke. 

“This,” said the Mayor, her voice reverberating through the courtroom, “Is not the Rune of Ord.”

Whatever Thor had been next expecting, it had apparently not been that. “I – excuse me?”

“The Rune of Ord?” said the Mayor, almost conversationally, but there was something in her eyes that sent Loki’s heart plunging in his chest. His gaze flickered to one side, watching as Lorca more or less ran the rest of the way down the staircase. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it? The vessel of pure power over the forces of History and Time? Caretaken by the Gardener himself?”

Thor blinked in surprise, shifting his weight with the first faint stirrings of unease. “That … that is who we got it from.”

“Is it?” asked the Mayor, her face twisting in an expression of mock surprise. Lorca was sliding into place behind them, and Loki was suddenly very conscious of the magic radiating from the Mage in waves, waiting to be called into use. “I see! So I suppose it is the Gardener himself who is to blame.”

“Blame for _what?_ ” Thor asked, flabbergasted, and turned towards Loki. “Brother, do you know what she’s –”

But then his voice died in his throat, for Loki was not meeting his gaze. The god of Mischief’s head was tilted down, his shoulders tight with anxiety – and shame.

“Loki,” said Thor, and for the first time, for the first time since all of this had begun, there was an edge of something like real despair in his voice. “What – what have you done?”

Loki dragged his gaze up to meet Thor's, but could not seem to find his voice. 

“What kind of question is that?” The Mayor looked at Thor with an expression that was almost pitying. “He’s done what he always does. Mischief. Trickery. _Chaos._ ” She rolled the stone in her palm appraisingly, then held it out between thumb and forefinger. “You see this, god of Thunder? A nice enough bauble, but any resident of Nonesuch could tell you that it’s not anything special. This is no fabled Infinity Stone. It’s a fancy little party trick, but nothing more than that.”

“But – but that’s what he gave us,” said Thor, almost desperately. “The Elder. He gave us that stone –”

“Really?” The Mayor arched a knowing eyebrow. “Gave it to _you,_ did he?”

“… No,” said Thor softly, and the face he turned towards Loki was filled with such heartsickness that Loki could no longer meet his gaze. “He ... he gave it to _him._ ”

“And you really thought your brother – the god of Disorder, the Lord of Misfits, the one who seeks power to fill the emptiness of his own heart – you expected such a one as _him_ to simply give away one of the most powerful magical items in the universe?” The Mayor grinned, throwing the gem away from her, where it tumbled back at Thor’s feet. “You ask too much of him, Asgardian. You ask him to go against his very nature.”

At last, Loki raised his head to meet her gaze. The Mayor’s sneering gloat was almost more than he could bear. “That’s not what – I had to try to –”

“Do you know what the problem is with always doing the unpredictable?” asked the Mayor, drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair. “You end up becoming quite … predictable.”

The Mayor’s gaze shifted to look past them, and she gave a nod. Behind them, Loki heard Mage Lorca clear her throat almost awkwardly. 

“Sorry about this part, fellas,” said Lorca, and Loki turned just in time to see her snap her fingers.

And then Thor was gasping and falling to his knees. The restraint around his wrist glowed too bright to look at, and smoke began to rise from his clenched fist as the cuff burned into his flesh like a brand. His other hand suddenly pressed against his chest, and Loki realized, to his horror, that a glow of heat was radiating from beneath Thor’s breastplate, spreading outward through his arms and throat and face. His good eye turned desperately in Loki’s direction, and Loki could see a haze of flames reflected in his brother’s gaze.

His brother, burning from the inside out.

“They say the worst punishments are reserved for those who lie and betray,” said the Mayor, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of Thor’s groaning cries. “But the truth is that it’s those who place their faith in traitors that are most likely to find themselves burning.”

“ _Thor,_ ” Loki whispered, hearing his own desperation. He turned towards the Mayor, his eyes pleading. “Please, don’t do this! I didn’t mean to – I was only trying to –”

“You did as you’ve always done, didn’t you?” said the Mayor. She appeared to be drinking in the moment, enjoying the sound of sizzling flesh and a prisoner’s screams. “Trouble on the horizon? Time to concoct a clever scheme! Free your brother, make a fool of authority, and gain an Infinity Stone for your own use. But such schemes – they always involve a gamble, do they not? An Agent of Chaos can make no other.” She leaned forward, shaking her head sympathetically. “It’s just such a shame that you used your brother’s life to make the wager.”

She nodded at Lorca again, and the Mage snapped her fingers once more, extinguishing the fire. Thor groaned, sagging to one side, and Loki darted forward, dropping to his knees to catch him. Thor was wheezing and trembling, sagging in Loki’s grip – and so it took Loki a moment to realize that his brother would not look at him.

“Thor,” Loki began, his voice hollow to his own ears. “I – I was so sure she wouldn’t know. That she wouldn’t spot it as a fake. I didn’t think –”

“Ob – obviously,” Thor choked out, and Loki swallowed hard.

“Brother –”

“I remind you,” the Mayor called down, “that this is a momentary stay of execution! If you wish to save the prisoner’s life on a less temporary basis, then I suggest, for once in your life, that you keep your word and fulfill your side of a bargain.”

Loki looked up at her with dull eyes, as if just remembering that she was still there. “What?”

“ _The Time Stone!_ ” she snarled. “This is your last chance, god of Mischief. No tricks, no lies. Just give me what I’m owed.”

He stared at her uncomprehendingly, then looked back at Thor. His brother was on his knees now, hands pressed to the ache in his chest, one wrist blistered and blackened from the fire of the spell. 

“Thor –”

“Give her what you promised, Loki,” mumbled Thor, still not looking at him. “It’s time we were on our way home.”

Loki opened his mouth to beseech his brother to understand, to explain himself, to tell Thor what he’d wanted to do for him, what he’d wanted to do for them all. But instead, he fell silent, and turned away – and raised a hand, his fingertips dancing with a sudden green light.

The Mayor craned forward, and behind him, even Lorca was standing on her tiptoes to try and see over Loki’s shoulder to what now lay nestled in his palm.

After a long moment, the Mayor leaned back in her chair, her gaze displeased.

“That,” said the Mayor tightly, “Is a fob watch.”

“I believe the Gardener has something of a sense of humor,” said Loki, thinking silently, _We have that much in common._

The Mayor drew up short, then appeared to consider this. “If you’re lying –” she began, and beside him, Loki heard Thor inhale sharply. Loki’s head jerked around to see Thor, teeth gritted and hands clenched in fists, heat beginning to radiate from the cuff around his wrist.

“I’m not,” said Loki, desperately. “Your prize lies inside the watch, Your Excellency. I swear it to you!”

“Hmmm.” The Mayor relaxed slightly, and Lorca released her hold over Thor once more, who sagged forward and just managed to catch himself with outstretched hands, keeping him from collapsing entirely. “Hand it over to the Mage then, there’s a good lad.”

“I would prefer to place it in your hands myself. Your Excellency.” Loki smiled grimly. “It is my final bargaining chip, after all – and what our lives rather depend on.”

“Don’t trust me, then?” Lorca snorted, but she was grinning. “Smart guy.”

“An understandable sentiment,” nodded the Mayor – and then her teeth flashed in a hideous snarl. “ _Give it to the Mage._ ”

Loki held for a moment, then sighed. “It was worth a try,” he said, amiably enough, and dropped the watch into Lorca’s palm. She hefted it in her hand, brow furrowed.

“I trust this seems more like the real thing, Mage Lorca?” asked the Mayor.

“It’s sealed up tight, Your Worship,” said Lorca, glancing at her over her shoulder. “Only way for me to tell would be to actually open it up. I can give it a peek if you –”

“That won’t be necessary.” A gleam of anticipation was beginning to flash in the Mayor’s eyes. “Bring it. Now.”

Shrugging slightly, Lorca made once more for the staircase, carrying the fob watch in front of her as if she expected it at any moment to try and leap out of her hands. The Mayor watched her approach, her eyes locked on the precious cargo Lorca carried in her hands. Lorca stopped beside her, and slid the watch into the Mayor’s waiting hands.

“… a magpie on the cover?” the Mayor murmured, running her long, scaled fingers over the fob. “A curious symbol to choose.” Her gaze flickered briefly to Loki. “If this is another trick, Trickster – ”

“You wanted to change the past,” said Loki softly. He had yet to look away from her. “The moment lies in your hands.”

She barely seemed to hear him. Her reptilian face was flushed, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Then I thank you for your service, god of Mischief. You have helped to restore a shining moment of Order in a universe of infinite Chaos. I hope it does not pain you too much to hear that.”

One corner of Loki’s mouth twitched upward. Lorca was still watching him, and a faint crease appeared between her brows – but she did not comment.

And then the Mayor was opening the watch.

* * * * *

Light.

Everything was light.

Eyes narrowed against the brightness, holding up a hand to shield her face, the Mayor walked forward, trying to get her bearings. It was easier said than done. While it was admittedly hard to make out her surroundings through the glare, the simple truth seemed to be that there were no surroundings to make out. The light was all-encompassing, for that was all there seemed to be. The courtroom was gone. The Courthouse itself was gone. Her Guardmages, her prisoners, the seat of her power, all of it was just ... vanished.

 _I’m in the Time Vortex,_ she thought, and a little thrill of power went through her at the heady thought. She clutched her scaled fingers more tightly around the fob watch in her hand, casting her gaze about in wonderment. Where to begin?

“I’ll wipe those insolent Asgardians out of history, to begin with,” she said aloud, enjoying the way her voice reverberated through the waves of blinding light. “Not just the princes, either. Any species that spawned such chaotic rulers can’t possibly be left alive to spread their interference across the galaxies. And after that? Oh, let’s see … I suppose I could make some tweaks to the Talaxian Empire, for starters. They’d run _ever_ so much more efficiently if they’d just lost the first war and gained some much-needed population control.” Her eyes sparkled. “And then if Nonesuch had dissolved our alliance with the Breen that much sooner, it would’ve left us to jump-start the tourist trade a century earlier –”

_“Now who’s the liar?”_

At the sudden sound of the laughing voice, the Mayor jolted, nearly dropping the fob watch in her alarm. “Who – who’s there?” she demanded, her own voice quavering in a way she was unused to hearing and instantly hated.

 _“Are you really going to pretend that you have any other goal? That there’s any other reason you want to change the past?”_ The voice was annoyingly cheerful – and, with such cheer came an annoying familiarity. Of course. The damn Trickster. _“Once you imagined the power of Time at your disposal, there was only ever one moment of history that you were Hel-bent on rewriting. One moment you’d stop at nothing to change. Isn’t there?”_

“Show yourself,” hissed the Mayor, brandishing the fob watch in front of her, though she could hardly see through the brilliance to do so. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, swirling around the Vortex of light, impossible to pinpoint. 

_“I can’t even be that cross with you for being so obviously prepared to let my brother burst into flames. This stopped being about_ him _the moment I made my offer. And it wasn’t about me, either, was it? It was about_ you. _You, and what was taken from you, so many years ago. The one loss you’d do anything to reverse.”_

“If this is a trick, foolish Trickster – it shall be your last,” the Mayor snarled, and raised the fob watch clutched in her hand, meaning to use her new powers to blast this insolent Chaotic out of history. But then she became aware of the glow of light coming from the watch’s center – and it was not the green light of the Time Stone. 

Haltingly, she pulled her hand back, looking inside the fob watch. Only to see that there was nothing inside … but a perfectly ordinary watch face.

“I’d say something about needing just a moment of your time,” said Loki, his voice no longer surrounding her, “but I daresay we’re rather past making puns for the moment, aren’t we?”

Blinking hard, the Mayor looked up to see the infuriating sight of the god of Mischief, standing in front of her and grinning fit to split his face in two.

“… Oh, that watch does have a bit of magic to it,” Loki said almost conversationally, as she continued to stare at it. “But I’m afraid it does not actually contain an Infinity Stone. Just a rather powerful illusion spell – if I may be so bold as to praise my own efforts.” He waved a hand around at the vortex of white light. “It is a remarkably convincing facsimile, don’t you agree?”

She sneered at him. “So none of this is real?”

Loki gave a little shrug. “It’s more accurate to say that it’s only happening in your own mind. But I wouldn’t say that makes it any less _real._ ” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Would you?”

The Mayor felt her hand clenching and unclenching around the fob watch. “You,” she said at last, and it felt as though the words were choking in her throat. “You – you don’t _have_ the Time Stone.”

“No,” said Loki softly. “I do not.”

“You – you never had it.”

Loki spread his arms in a magnanimous shrug: _guilty as charged._

“And I take it,” continued the Mayor, forcing her voice to stay cool, “That you needed me to open the fob watch to trigger this illusion spell.” 

He smiled at her, the pleased expression of a master taking pride in the cleverness of his student. “Precisely! Usually, an illusion spell this powerful would require me to make direct contact. That is to say: I’d need to get a hand on your head, if I wanted to get inside it.” He flashed her a grin that made her want to throttle him. “But since I had my doubts you’d let me get that close, I had to try another tack. And put the spell inside the watch itself. Clever, don’t you think?”

She gave a little nod, her reptilian lips curling in a moue of disappointment. Below the façade, she could feel the rage boiling up in her, threatening to spill over and swallow her and the Trickster both in its wake. “So why the feint, at the beginning? Why didn’t you just hand me the watch to begin with, and claim the Stone was inside? Your brother nearly had the heart burned out of him. It’s not too late for that,” she added almost as an afterthought – but if she’d been hoping to earn a flinch from him, she was disappointed, though his eyes did momentarily flash with something unreadable before returning to his easy demeanor. 

“Yes, well – I _was_ rather hoping that I’d be the one to stay under the binding spell, and therefore the one to suffer the consequences. But Thor agreed we had to go through with our little misdirection no matter the cost.” Loki smiled fondly. “He knew as well as I that we had to be cleverer than that. Because you pride yourself on seeing through such an Agent of Mischief and Chaos as myself, don’t you? The Mayor of Nonesuch, the Master of Order and Obedience!” He began to walk towards her, and though he was still smiling, his gaze had darkened slightly. “You never would’ve opened a trap we set if we simply handed it to you. We had to make you think you’d won it from us. That you’d seen through the treachery you expected to find in me. That you’d _taken_ it from us, through force and through fear.” He looked around at the blinding white light, seemingly unbothered by the force of it. “Looks like it worked, at that.”

The Mayor made a noise that was somewhere between rage and amazement. “You disgusting little _snake._ You can’t truly think yourself powerful enough to keep me trapped here forever, can you? The entirety of the Guardmage should be skewering half a dozen spells through your heart as we speak!”

“Oh, this illusion’s not meant to last forever.” Loki waved his hand at the liminal white space around them. “I just wanted to slow things down a bit and give us a moment of privacy so that I could make you an offer. Well, and also get the chance to retrieve this.”

He gestured, and the tiny green stone she’d flung at his feet suddenly dropped into his palm. The Mayor made a choking sound that did not particularly sound much like laughter. “The false Time Stone! It already served your feint, you know. What use have you for such costume jewelry now?”

“You see? Making assumptions about me again.” He stepped back slightly, balancing the stone between thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t lie to you, you know. I did bring you back the Rune of Ord. It’s just not what you expected.”

“The Rune of Ord controls Time itself,” she hissed, but Loki shook his head.

“No. It only controls our perception of it.” 

She blinked. “You speak of history.”

“I speak,” Loki replied, “Of _Memory._ ”

For just a moment, she found herself eyeing the gem – and then she caught herself, and sneered at him once more. “And I suppose this is the part where I’m supposed to ask you what new bargain of deceit and treachery you are prepared to offer me?”

“The way I see it, I’ve been the only one to hold up their end of this bargain with honest sincerity. Well,” Loki amended, with a smile that was only slightly sheepish, “in a manner of speaking.” And then his smile softened, and the look of sympathy in his eyes was so unaffected, so genuine, that the Mayor found herself drawing back from him slightly. “You see, my friend – I know what it is to lose your way. I know what it is to lose _yourself._ ”

“You – you know _nothing_ of me,” snapped the Mayor, taking a step away from him. “Do not speak of me as if you –”

“Oh, but I do know,” said Loki softly. The gemstone cradled in his palm was suddenly floating upwards, and images were rippling beneath its surface, drawing her gaze inexorably closer. “I know what it is to lose the core of who you are, the core of everything you thought you knew about yourself and everything you thought yourself to be. To have it all ripped away from you, until all that’s left is an empty shell – and a soul so hollow, you’d stop at nothing – _nothing_ – to try and fill it.” 

As he spoke, the images above the gem began to shimmer, images of the man before her – but from a different place, a different time, when his eyes were wild and his smile was cruel and armies were at his command. Not just armies, she saw, leaning closer – but an Infinity Stone, too, a Stone that gave him the power to lead, to wield true _control …_

“I sought a kingdom,” Loki was saying, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “Power. Adoration. A throne. Because it was what I thought I had lost.”

“Then you understand,” she breathed, tearing her gaze away from the scenes in front of her. When she looked up at him, her eyes had a wild desperation that, though she did not know it, matched the gaze of the man in the memories. “You understand the only way to answer such loss is to claim ownership over what power remains for the taking.”

“No.” Loki gestured, and the images changed – and she saw him again, fighting still. But no longer did he fight with the might of power and armies and thrones, but side-by-side with his friends and comrades and his very people, as he struggled to save them from the death that awaited them. And she saw him standing with them – standing beside his brother, the newly crowned King of Asgard – in a place that he’d made for himself, that had always been waiting for him. “The only way to answer such loss is to claim yourself. Yourself, and the place you make for your own.

“And that is what I offer you.” He closed his hand over the gem, and the images vanished, leaving him looking at her with earnest eyes. “The chance to end this. Your magic is gone, but _you_ are not. You have not lost yourself, not yet. End the bitterness over what you have lost, and embrace what you could be, instead.”

She locked eyes at him for a long moment.

And then she laughed. 

“Do you really expect me to – what?” She waved a hand at him. “Go back with you and set you and your brother free? Pack up my talismans and renounce my throne?” 

“Well, that first part would be ideal. But as for the rest of it – No.” He shrugged. “I was thinking, perhaps, you could keep the talismans and the throne. But use them in the service of something more than yourself. Become more than a dictator. Be a _leader._ ”

“Like you?” she snapped. 

“Oh, I am most assuredly not looking for a throne.” He grinned. “But I’ve found there’s more than one way to find your way home.”

“Silver-tongued to the last, aren’t you?” snarled the Mayor. “And rest assured – this pathetic scheme of yours will your last. You, and that meddling brute of a brother.” She flung the fob watch in disgust at his feet. “He’ll die for this, you know. So will you – but I’ll make certain you live long enough to witness his very painful execution.”

“Yes, well, I suppose it should be his turn to be the one to die for once,” said Loki, and a faint, odd little smile tugged at one corner of his lips. “But just to be clear – that’s a ‘No’ on just going back to Nonesuch and maybe trying to be a little less of a terrible person?”

“I think I’ll start by having Mage Lorca string both of you up by your own entrails,” said the Mayor, and Loki gave a little sigh.

“I thought you were going to say that,” said Loki, his face truly disappointed. “Well. Something like that, anyway –” he continued, as his hand suddenly whipped up, too fast for her to follow, and he was pressing the Rune of Ord to her forehead.

And then the light around them seemed to fill her, her eyes and nose and mouth and throat, into her very lungs, into the heart of her, and then –

* * * * *

Loki gasped an enormous breath of air into his lungs, and staggered so violently he nearly fell sideways, catching himself with his hands on his knees. He felt as if he'd been running very fast and very far. 

– well. Perhaps, in a way, he had.

“Loki?” Thor asked, voice raspy in his throat. He’d managed to gain his feet, and the hand he put on his brother’s shoulder seemed as much to support Thor himself as it did to help Loki stay upright. “Did you – did it work?”

“More or less,” Loki panted. He straightened slowly, allowing Thor time to adjust his hold on Loki's shoulder. Loki managed a smile for him – though it was a bit less cheerful than one might have expected, given that they had just won. “I had to use the Rune, I’m afraid. She wasn’t interested in my first offer.”

Thor’s smile was sympathetic. “Did you really think she would be?” 

“I suppose not,” said Loki, dropping his gaze. “But I’d … I’d hoped.”

He didn’t explain further, and he supposed he didn’t need to. Thor had never fallen as far or as completely as Loki himself had – but Thor, too, had once been less. He understood something of what it meant to lose your way … and what it meant to find your way back to something more.

He also understood it was never a path you could force anyone else to take.

“Your – Your Excellency?” Mage Lorca stood hesitantly beside the Mayor, who was still sitting motionless in her towering Courtroom seat. Lorca waved a hand in front of the Mayor’s face; the Mayor blinked once, slowly, but did not otherwise respond. 

Lorca turned, her face more bewildered than angry. “What – what did you do to her?”

“Not nearly as much as I ought to’ve,” said Loki, a bit more peevishly than he intended. He took a breath before continuing, forcing himself to smile. “Just a bit of memory alteration. The wee tiniest smidgen.”

“The Rune of Ord does not alter time or history,” Thor explained, when Lorca continued to stare at them warily. “It alters Memory.”

“I’m afraid we didn’t actually reverse our previous crimes. Merely her memory of them.” Loki shrugged, turning to consider the Mayor. “When I release her from my illusion, she’ll be more or less the same person – though she’ll behave a bit more charitably towards us, I’m pleased to say. Her memory will now recall the time my brother and I visited Nonesuch all those centuries ago, and tried to put an end to a rather vicious bar brawl that we had nothing whatsoever to do with the starting of. One poor gentleman still lost his life, but it through no fault of our own.”

“… well. Damn. Isn’t that a neat trick?” said Mage Lorca at last, a slow smile pulling at her lips. Thor looked at her suspiciously, but she only grinned wider, and after a moment, Loki returned the expression.

“It really is, isn’t it?” agreed Loki. “You know, I’ve done some Memory magic in my time – obscuring people’s true pasts, or pulling forth what they’d rather not remember. But it’s always been illusions and recollections. To truly and permanently alter someone’s memory forever – not just to cast an illusion, but to change the truth of what they know – well, I needed something a bit more powerful than my own illusions. Handy of your planet to have one such thing lying around.” He gestured, and the Rune appeared just above his hand, tumbling into his palm with a satisfying thump.

“Clever!” Mage Lorca’s large silver eyes were gleaming with undeniable appreciation. “But tell me. What’s to stop me from setting your brother here on fire –” She tightened her hand into a fist, and Thor gritted his teeth to stifle a cry as the cuff on his blackened wrist flared once more. “ – and then filling the Mayor in on the truth?”

But Loki only gave a little laugh, tossing the Rune lightly in his palm. “Actually, I was thinking you might like to let my brother go, and keep this conversation to yourself. Do that, and I’ll rewrite the part of the Mayor’s memory that recalls _you_ as the criminal.” He arched an eyebrow. “She doesn’t currently remember your years of loyal service, you see; just that you’re a wanted criminal who’s spent the last few decades on the run. I imagine, in her current state, that she won’t be particularly pleased to see you.”

Lorca only hesitated an instant. Then another smile spread across her face.

“It really is a shame you want to leave,” she said. “Things are a lot more fun with the two of you around here.”

She snapped her fingers. The roiling-hot binding around Thor’s wrist unfurled at last, dissipating in a puff of angry black smoke. Thor sighed in relief, his hand coming up to twist at the flesh of his wrist below the angry wounds. 

“Thanks,” said Thor, and Loki was impressed that his brother’s voice was not unkind. 

“Don’t mention it,” said the Mage, and then looked at Loki expectantly. Loki shrugged, then made his way up to where the Mayor sat frozen in her grand golden robes. He pressed the Rune of Ord once more to her forehead, green light flaring beneath his palm, then turned away with a shrug for Lorca. Seconds passed – Loki returning to his place beside his brother and waiting with an expectant look – and then the Mayor shuttered, blinking hard as if she’d just woken up.

Well. Perhaps she had.

“What was I saying?” The Mayor raised a hand to massage idly at her temples, then caught sudden sight of the princes standing before her. “Yes, well, such a shame your visit must be cut short, Your Highnesses. But if there’s ever anything I can do for you, always know that the people of Nonesuch are at your disposal! For the right price,” she added with a grin that split her reptilian face in two.

Loki was certain he was the only one to notice Thor holding back a shutter before he answered. “It’s been our … our pleasure, Your Excellency,” he said, holding his injured wrist behind his back. “And now, I’m afraid we really must be returning to our ship.”

“But of course.” The Mayor waved a hand. “Shall I have Mage Lorca escort you?”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Thor hastily, looking at where Mage Lorca was beaming a grin at them so toothy, she looked more wolflike than the canine-faced bailiff had before. “We – thank you, for your hospitality.”

He jerked his head in a nod, then began to back up. Loki gave a more elegant bow, straightening up in time to see Mage Lorca shooting him a solemn wink. He smiled in return, and then joined his brother in beating an appropriately measured but undeniably hasty retreat.

* * * * *

“What _happened?_ ” the Valkyrie demanded, the exasperation in her voice spoiled by her clear concern as she helped Loki support Thor up the ramp of the _Statesman._ “You were just – you just _vanished,_ and the ship’s sensors couldn’t see you anymore, _Heimdall_ couldn’t see you anymore – and we tried to leave twice but the people weren’t having any of it, they wouldn’t leave without you. Either of you,” she added, and Loki seemed to be hiding a small smile at that. “Are you both all right? How _did_ you get out of there? – Thor?” 

This last was because Thor was shuffling awkwardly in her grasp – though only, as it turned out, to retrieve something he’d tucked away behind the breastplate of his armor. He fumbled for a moment, then shoved the item in question towards her.

“Here,” blurted Thor weakly, holding out the winged horse pendant from the merchant’s shop. “I – I got you a necklace.”

He managed to stay awake long enough for them to get him properly on board and in his berth on the _Statesman._ He would’ve been hard-pressed to say if what followed was unconsciousness or mere sleep, but he supposed it didn’t matter either way. 

His brother had gotten them home, at last.


	18. I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

It took Thor three days to recover – three days spent almost entirely asleep, much to his displeasure when he finally was awake enough to realize it. Luckily, he had plenty of opportunity to express such outrage when his advisers – most of them, anyway – arrived to submit their reports about the activity on the _Statesman _during his absence and recovery.__

__“You should’ve woken me up,” Thor grumbled for the fourth time, as the Valkyrie finished describing an altercation between an Asgardian and a Gladiator who had had differing opinions as to whom was stuck with the next round of latrine-cleaning duty. “That could’ve been a disaster.”_ _

__“It wasn’t,” said the Valkyrie patiently, lowering the padd containing the summaries of logged incident reports. “Just like the other half a dozen problems that cropped up also failed to end in disaster. Everything worked out fine.”_ _

__“We can’t have passengers challenging each other to _duels,_ ” said Thor, ignoring her point entirely. He could hear the petulance in his own voice, and it made some other corner of himself cringe slightly, though most of him was too annoyed to care. “We’ve been giving the Gladiators a lot of leeway – we owe them that much – but if they’re going to start winding up the other passengers for swordfights –”_ _

__“It was the Asgardian who suggested the duel,” said the Valkyrie patiently, which drew Thor up short._ _

__“… be that as it may,” said Thor, when he’d managed to recover himself, “We can’t have it. Not with so many people on board, and after so much trauma. We’ve got to handle these situations, before everything spins out of control –”_ _

__“The situation was handled,” said the Valkyrie. Her voice was still level, but she was crossing her arms over her chest, bracing for a fight. “The dual was interrupted and a compromise between both parties was reached. It worked out fine, Majesty. Everything’s been all right. The people have been all right.”_ _

__Thor was winding up to present an argument afresh, then hesitated. He glanced over at Heimdall and saw the Watcher returning his gaze with his usual steady consideration, one eyebrow raised._ _

__It was enough. Thor deflated, then groaned, running a hand over his face. “You’re right. You’re right, I’m sorry. I just …”_ _

__“You’ve had a time of it,” said the Valkyrie gently, when he looked at a loss for words. “Your brother filled us in on what happened. Most of what happened,” she amended. “I think he left out a few details.”_ _

___Thank you for that, Brother._ “Is he – well?” asked Thor, trying hard to keep his voice neutral._ _

__“Seems to be,” said the Valkyrie with a little shrug. “He’s been helpful as anything, gotta give him that much. He was the one who broke up the dual between our two latrine-duty combatants.”_ _

__“Shall we call him in to see you?” asked Heimdall, and Thor was sure it was not his imagination that Heimdall was watching him even more closely than usual._ _

__“No,” said Thor, a little too quickly. “No, I don’t want to disturb him – especially if he’s been taking on fresh duties since we came back. Just – if you could finish filling me in about what I missed?”_ _

__“Right,” said the Valkyrie, raising her padd again. “Supply-wise, stopping off at Nonesuch actually did us a bit of good, although that does raise the issue of the new ‘pet’ Korg picked up for Miek at the Marketplace –”_ _

__Smiling faintly, Thor settled back against his bunk – aware that Heimdall was still watching him, a faint look of something almost like disappointment on his face._ _

____

* * * * *

It was ironic, really. Avoiding a conversation with Loki had been precisely what had landed them into their little side trip to Nonesuch in the first place – and yet here Thor was, evading his brother once again.

Well. Evading him to a point. Because of course Thor still saw Loki – in the mess hall, at meetings, even working together side by side taking inventory or struggling through engine repairs. It was just that there were always other people around, guaranteeing that all words exchanged remained focused on food supplies and ship maintenance. On the rare occasions that Thor did spot Loki alone, it was on those infrequent moments when they would pass each other in one of the lesser-used ship’s corridors, and both of them were careful to always smile and nod and greet each other, using words of such banal pleasantries that Thor thought he would go mad at the ridiculousness of it. Sooner or later, they were going to have to talk – _really_ talk.

Sooner or later, Thor was going to have to tell Loki the truth.

But it wasn’t until a full week had passed – a week that Thor spent running ragged around the _Statesman,_ as much to handle each small fire as it arose as to pay some small penance for his absence – only then did it occur to Thor that Loki had made no more effort to seek Thor out than Thor himself had. If Thor was avoiding a conversation with Loki, Loki appeared to be doing the same.

It was precisely this thought that helped Thor pluck up enough courage to search out his brother. Besides, Thor could no longer handle the not-knowing. If Loki had guessed the truth, and was angry at Thor because of it, then Thor would face the consequences. 

Even if the thought of losing this easy friendship with his brother – his brother, who had only just found his way home – made Thor heartsick. 

And yet, if there was one thing Thor had learned over the past few weeks, it was that there was only ever so much time.

* * * * *

Of the scant few cargo compartments that had not been filled with refugee passengers, the deepest was used for what spare engine parts they’d been able to salvage on their various supply runs. The space was not visited with the same frequency as the holds containing food and medical supplies, and so was an ideal place for a magician looking for a place to practice.

Loki sat perched on the edge of a large crate, half-hidden in the shadows of the compartment's farthest corner, enjoying a rare moment without some-or-other task or catastrophe requiring his attention. He was dressed to relax for the first time in weeks, wearing a soft green tunic and dark pants, his hair swept back somewhat messily from his face. He leaned back on the crate with one arm, his other hand raised to trace wistful wisps of magic into the air. 

“You still remember your spells,” came the rumble of Thor’s voice. 

Loki looked up, startled, the green glow of spellcast in his palm flaring so brightly that Thor had to shield his good eye against the shine. Loki hastily wrapped hid fingers around the offending glare, and Thor lowered his hand from his face, blinking furiously.

“Sorry about that,” said Loki, chuckling slightly. “Though you’d think you’d know better by now than to sneak up on me.”

“You’d think,” Thor agreed. Then he clasped his hands behind his back, opened his mouth, and snapped it shut again, clearly at a loss. 

Loki grinned faintly, taking pity. “You know, I was wondering how long it would take us to stop avoiding each other.” He shook his head almost mournfully. “I’m a bit embarrassed to see you’ve plucked up the courage first.”

Thor chuckled, some of the tension visibly easing from the set of his shoulders and the lines of his mouth. “It was only a week. And we’ve both been busy.”

“True enough.” Loki sighed, running his fingers across the back of his hand. “Still. I thought I’d come further than using avoidance as a tactic to handle an uncomfortable issue. I suppose old habits die hard.” He looked up at Thor, smiling faintly. “But that doesn’t change what I owe you.”

“What you owe me?” echoed Thor, clearly surprised. “What in the Nine Realms would that be, exactly?”

“I –” Loki dropped his gaze just slightly. “I owe you an apology.”

The surprise turned to shock at Thor stared at him. “You – what?” Thor took a moment to try and collect himself. “Did you say that you owe me an apology?”

“Don’t make it any harder for me than it is,” said Loki, in the mock-pleading tone that he’d used since their childhoods to mask the fact that the plea was sincere. “I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but apologies aren’t exactly my strong suit –”

“Loki.” The single word cut Loki off short. “What on earth do you think you have to apologize to me for?”

“For what happened back at the Courthouse, of course. For what the Mayor put you through." Loki gestured, wincing, at the fading burns still coating Thor's wrist. “I really thought that I’d be the one that she’d keep under her control. That I’d be the one to take the gamble, not you.”

“We both agreed to the plan –” Thor began.

Loki held up a hand to stop him. “We both agreed to _my_ plan, yes. The plan where, instead of just taking her out from the beginning, we hold everything up to give her the option to take a different path. But I never meant for you to be the one to pay the price. It was just …” He looked up then, his eyes pleading for Thor to understand. “I had to give her a chance. Like –” The rest came out in a mumble. “Like you gave one to me.”

“Ah, but that’s just it, Brother,” said Thor, and it was with a thrill of relief that Loki saw that his brother was smiling just slightly. “You didn’t have to give her that chance. You _chose_ to – chose to give her the choice of being something better. I’m proud of you.”

“Yes, well,” said Loki, managing to look both faintly embarrassed and undeniably pleased. “It may not have worked out quite the way I intended, but – it was a start. I may’ve altered one or two of her other memories while I was at it,” he added, by way of explanation. “Not enough to remove her responsibility for her own choices. Just enough to, perhaps, make the residents of Nonesuch suffer a bit less. She’ll be less harmful now – if, admittedly, still rather terrible.” He grimaced. “At least until she might decide not to be. Someday.”

“Well. You did what you could.” Thor hesitated, then added softly, “You can’t force anyone to change, after all.”

“No,” said Loki quietly. “You cannot.”

The compartment fell silent. After a moment, Loki raised his hand and resumed tracing lines of magic in the air. Thor watched him, leaning against a nearby crate with his arms folded across his chest.

“Loki –” Thor began at last, and then suddenly frowned in curiosity. “What’re you up to in here, anyway? Planning out new spells for the next spot of trouble we run into?”

“Not new,” said Loki, still tracing. “Old. I’ve just finished a test run through my entire magical catalog. Every spell, illusion, and incantation, checking for any newly-acquired gaps in my previous skill set. I expected that I must’ve lost some areas of expertise; I cannot remember the years of practice it took to gain them, after all. But, much to my surprise – there was not a gap to be found. I’ve not got a single spell out of place.” 

“How is that possible?” asked Thor quietly.

Loki smiled in spite of himself, his fingers trailing afterimages through the shimmering green-gold light. “You know, I’m honestly not certain. Perhaps it’s because, even if I can’t remember those years of practice, they still happened. Perhaps our dear friend Ord was kind enough to leave behind the full extent of the skills I earned, if not the memories of how I earned them.” 

He snapped his fingers then, and the light coalesced, forming an illusion of a snake. He turned to Thor, his smile widening, but Thor couldn’t seem to hold his gaze.

“Kind enough?” Thor snorted, but there was more heartache than bitterness in his voice. “He didn’t strike me as so kind – let alone any sort of a friend.”

But Loki shook his head, even as he idly twisted his fingers around the edges of the snake. “I know some of what he put us through – all of what he put us through,” amended Loki off of Thor’s look, “Did seem like a cruelty. But I don’t think that was his motive.” Loki waved his fingers through the illusion’s edges, smudging the image away, and began to trace a new shape. “I think he wanted the new bearers of the Rune to feel the weight, the worth of what such a power means. What it costs. Memory is not to be idly trifled with; we understand that firsthand, now.”

Above Loki’s palm, the illusion of the magpie fluttered nimbly in midair, one shining eye flashing in a wink before it vanished in a twist of green light. Loki smiled, his eyes unexpectedly fond.

“Besides,” Loki added, “We wouldn’t have found our way out of the Time Vortex without him. Not to mention his Rune helping us escape certain doom at the hands of the Mayor. For whatever reason, he decided to aid us – in his own way, at least.”

“You’re giving him more credit than I care to, Brother.” Thor shifted his weight. “Maybe he just wanted someone to take the Mayor down a few pegs.”

“Yes, she does seem the type to make friends wherever she goes, doesn’t she?” Loki agreed. “I do hope she finds her way – but, in the meantime, I won’t be sorry to see the last of her.”

The compartment filled with silence. Loki sat quietly, his hands still in his lap, waiting.

“I need to tell you something,” came Thor’s voice at last.

“Yes, you mentioned something about that,” said Loki, looking over at him. “Though I confess I’m at a loss as to what would have you sounding so serious.”

“I – I need …” Thor took a breath, let it out slowly, visibly bracing himself. “I need to say that I’m sorry.”

Whatever Loki had been expecting, it could hardly have been an apology. He almost chuckled aloud. “Sorry? Brother, what in heaven’s name for?”

“For what you lost.” Thor ran a hand over his short hair, a gleam of nervous lightning playing across his knuckles. “Because, the thing of it is …” He took another great breath, as if trying to steady himself. “It’s my fault we went to Nonesuch.”

“Thor,” said Loki patiently, because this simply did not make any sense, “We went to Nonesuch to take our Gladiator to her home, at her request. If you’re talking about our decision to stop over and sight-see – I mean, yes, I suppose that was your idea, but I know you only did it because of me. Which would, then, technically make the whole thing _my_ fault, if we were keeping score. Which,” he added with a sheepish smile, “I really hope you’re not suggesting we do.”

But Thor refused to smile, refused to look at Loki with anything other than a kind of aching, earnest apology. “I wasn’t – I won’t have you blaming yourself,” he said, voice determined, insistent. “Because it wasn’t just about the sightseeing. I couldn’t have known everything we’d face, but – I at least had a hunch that such a visit might be biting off a bit more than we could chew. It’s just I didn’t know what else to do. Didn’t know how else to help you –”

“Thor,” said Loki, bewildered. “What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

“We stayed on Nonesuch,” said Thor heavily, “because I was hoping that we’d get into a bit of trouble. Hoping that a little Chaos would find its way to us. These last few months have been so hard on us all, but I think they’ve been hardest on you. Cooped up in a tin can for weeks on end, hurtling through space – there’s precious little room for Mischief and Chaos in day-to-day drudgery, Brother, is there? You seemed … tired, and dulled, and maybe, just maybe, like you were losing a little bit of yourself again. And then we were coming up on the magical center of the galaxy and I thought - I thought if we spent some time on a planet where trouble was bound to find us, well, it might do you some good. Give you a chance to use your talents and have a bit of fun. Have a bit of purpose, again.” The expression he turned on Loki was heartsick. “I thought we’d find a little mischief, maybe get a bit roughed up around the edges. But I didn’t know about the charges against me, about the Mayor, her vendetta, none of that. I never dreamed we’d be in such danger, that we’d go through such trials to find our way out again. I never dreamed of what sacrifices you’d have to make – of what you would lose. And all I can say, Brother … is that I’m sorry.”

Thor looked away then. Guilt hung like a mantle settling around his shoulders, as if such a confession had only weighed him down further. The room fell still and silent, the weight of the darkness surrounding them seeming to press in from all sides.

And then, quite suddenly, Loki chuckled. 

“Is _that_ why you kept letting me take the lead in every move we made, every plan we formed?” An uncontrollable smile was tugging at the corners of Loki’s mouth. “Not just because you trusted me? But because you wanted to give me a chance to … to do what I do best?”

“I told you,” said Thor softly, still looking away. “You’ll always be the god of Mischief. That’s as it should be. The tricks and the tales are a part of who you are. But now … you’re using them to tell a new story. I – I’m so proud of you, for that. And I don’t want you to ever think anything else. To ever think you aren’t valued, just as you are. Because you may be _more,_ now – but that’s just another way of saying that you’ve become who you _are._ ”

“… you oaf,” said Loki cheerfully, and Thor turned to him, blinking in surprise. “That was all very sweet, in a painfully overdone-on-sentiment sort of way, but - to go to all that _trouble?_ Honestly, Brother, do you _really_ think someone like me can’t find plenty of Mischief and Chaos even in the mundane?”

“But – you were unhappy,” Thor began awkwardly. “Tired and ragged and under so much strain –”

“As were we all,” Loki agreed. “God of Mischief I may be, but I’m still only Asgardian – Well. You know.” He gave Thor a wink, and Thor managed a smile in return. “Did you honestly think, if you didn’t keep me properly entertained, that I’d take my leave and turn my back on our people? On _you?_ ”

“... No,” Thor admitted. “I just wanted you to feel like you were in your element again. Valued. Trusted. And – maybe – to have a bit of fun.”

“Well.” Loki grinned. “Rest assured: mission certainly accomplished there. It was a grand adventure, Brother. I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.”

“The price was too high,” said Thor heavily.

“There was a price,” Loki nodded. “Chaos has its cost. But the price was not as great as you might think.” He twirled a hand, the fob watch with the magpie on its face materializing into his palm. “Ord left me with more than my magic and a timepiece as a parting gift. He left me a truth.”

“And what’s that?”

“That we lose much. We lose time. We lose memories. But through it all, one force remains.” Loki snapped open the fob watch, a soft light shining from within and illuminating his face. “There is much about Mother I can no longer remember. But I love her no less for it.”

He plucked the Rune of Ord from the heart of the fob watch, then pressed it gently into Thor’s hand. Thor looked down at the glowing-green gem nestled in his palm, then back up at Loki, a question forming in his gaze.

“Keep it,” said Loki softly, as he tucked the fob watch away. “For when you need to remember.”

Thor smiled then, and Loki smiled in return, raising his hand to trace another illusion in the air. For a few minutes, all was silence, save for the faint hiss of the ship’s engines and the low thrumming of Loki’s magic as he conjured glowing forms of light. 

“There was one more thing,” said Thor then, looking sideways at his brother. “Will you tell me now, what you meant? About what you said before - that Death is the cheat?” 

“… Another time, Brother,” Loki said, his smile sufficed with mischief and sunlight. “Let’s leave that for another time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _For my mum, who always tells me I can be **more.**_   
> 
> 
> My deepest, deepest thanks and love to each and every one of you who has stuck with this story over the past eight months, with especial thanks to those outstanding folks who kept letting me know they were enjoying this tale. Comments helped keep the energy going on a project I didn't think would be novel-length when I started it, as well as through rough patches where the Inspiration Well seemed to be running dry – and, especially, through the two-month period in which I was moving house while also trying desperately to get to the Final Stand-Off Scene before the release of _Endgame._ Y’all are awesome.
> 
> I’ve wanted to be a writer for thirty years, but the past decade has seen me so paralyzed by my own fear of imperfections that I’ve been unable to finish much of anything – let alone a project of this length. It’s only been since the inspiration of our crazy little Chaos Agent that I’ve been able to find my way back. So to Kieron Gillen and Lee Garbett, to Don Payne and Christopher Yost, to Kenneth Branagh and Alan Taylor and Taika Waititi, to Al Ewing with eternal thanks – and to the man himself, Tom Hiddleston – I can only say: thank you. Your Stories have helped me find my way home.
> 
> And, finally: to my mum. For listening to plot points, for offering advice, for letting me bounce off ideas, for the encouragement, for all the many many dinners - for being my first fan - and for reading all those books to me and giving me my love of Story in the first place. This book would not exist without her. Love ya, Ma. <3 (P.S. Sorry about all the Time $%^&. XD)


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